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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27859449">Belly of the Deepest Love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihappentobeonfire/pseuds/ihappentobeonfire'>ihappentobeonfire</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Allies, Alternate Universe, Angst, Dave | Technoblade-centric, Drama, Dream SMP Timeline, Enemies, God!Technoblade, Greek Mythology Themes, Other, Techno is sad, Third Person POV, Violence, friendships, phil is a good dad, sleepy bois inc - Freeform, techno trying to be a good brother, technosad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:20:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>39,164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27859449</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihappentobeonfire/pseuds/ihappentobeonfire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>Stranded in a reality he is not accustomed to with no way of returning, Technoblade finds himself caught up in a plot to overthrow Manberg and takes it upon himself to help fuel the overturning of a government and protect the few mortal men he cares about. It turns out to be more than he bargained for. </p>
  <p>    <i></i></p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <i>-=OR=-</i></p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <i></i></p>
  <p>Follow Technoblade, fallen god of chaos and war, as he navigates through the events of the Dream SMP and discovers that violence and unrest may not be able to solve everything.</p>
</div>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>270</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Dark Waltz</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>All characters based on Dream SMP personas. This is not based on real people.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! Welcome to Belly of the Deepest Love. This story is based on the Dream SMP and inspired by the album Tow’rs by the artist Tow’rs. Each chapter corresponds to a song in chronological order, with the song title being the chapter title. My inspiration for Techno’s appearance comes from @leave.the.city.for.me on tiktok with their permission! Hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <i>Well I danced with the devil and he whispered to me<br/>
If you run fast enough you’ll finally be free<br/>
I lost my breath in front of these gates<br/>
All the pride, all the fear<br/>
That stole my heart away</i>
  </p>
</div>Grass stretched out across the rolling landscape, the vibrant blades swaying with the breeze that passed through the trees. Leaves rustled in a melody of nature, faint and distant birds chirping in synchronization to build upon the ambient noise radiating through the peace and quiet of the springtime air.<p>    It was on a gorgeous day that an unknown presence made itself known in the universe, disturbing the tranquility of nothingness in favor of the buzzing excitement of something new. Petals and leaves turned to see, rabbits whispered among themselves. In the self-repeating cycle of the natural world, a deferral from the day-to-day actions of mice and men captured the attention of even the ants that marched across the rich soil.</p><p>    Light reflected off of a wreath of gold-colored leaves, emitting a glimmering sheen onto the riverbank it rested upon. Beside it, the motionless fingertips of a slumbering man absorbed the heat that the grains of yellowing sand contained. Gentle swells and recessions of the water lapped at the heels of his boots, reaching out to kiss the newcomer and whisper the tales that a riverbed can hold for an eternity.</p><p>    In the grace of the mid-afternoon sun, however, the river found that its tales would fall upon the ears of one who had long since known the secrets wept into darkened waters. </p><p>    The outstretched hand twitched, fingers curling slowly to form a loose fist and extend again. Dark eyes focused on the small movements, surveying the state of their body through eyelashes that clung to themselves with the moisture of water that ran down the skin just beside them. </p><p>    Now awake, the man shifted with a soft groan to pull his arm back towards himself, using it to push his chest off of the sand and lift the skin of his cheek from the ground. Pink strands of hair cascaded from off of his shoulders, falling down around his face and flinging droplets of water as they moved. His hand lifted again as he folded his knees below himself and sat up, moving to brush the grains of sand from his face. </p><p>    Finally, the inky blackness of his eyes shifted upwards, out across the grass and trees he had been thrown down to this land in between. Specks of flowers visible scattered across the small meadows, mountains rising from the backdrop of the horizon. It all seemed awfully familiar, but after what felt like an eternity painted across the night sky, gazing down upon these very hills from where he lounged on a throne of gold. . . the perspective had shifted immensely. </p><p>    The hand that still rested against the beach curled, fingertips digging into the sand. This- this was humiliating. After rising so far, after proving his worth, his prowess- he was nothing. Trapped and weakened, bound to the restraints of this landscape. He was not upset, no, he only recognized the joy his enemies would be able to find in the scene. </p><p>    Despite the fleeting shame, there was no dread in his stomach. No regret pooling in his gut, weighing him down and refusing to let him stand. Instead he felt light despite the soggy cape draped over his shoulders. Warmth spread from his chest, shooting down his torso and winding its way up to gather in his throat. He could not recall a time he had craved this opportunity, for he had never felt trapped in the vast marbled halls he had resided in. </p><p>    But this? This was a strange combination of apprehension and excitement, weakness and revelry. In a way he had never wished for, had never sought out. . . he was free. </p><p>    The pads of his fingertips raised to feather across his jawline, the rosy flesh beneath almost tingling at the foreign sensation of a physical touch. They traced his cheekbone as they journeyed upwards, brushing across his forehead and down the bridge of his nose. He touched the raised skin of each of the scars that marred his complexion, one through his eyebrow and two below his eye, one crossing the bridge of his nose, and the final slicing through the side of his mouth. They stilled once his index finger rested on the bow of his lip, but only for a moment of contemplation. In his haste to reach the epitome of his power, the throne of his efficiency and skill, he had forgotten how long it had been since he had assumed a form that was capable of contact. Weak as they were, the warmth of his breath as it tickled his finger reminded him just how alive the mortal body could be. </p><p>    He could not overlook the weakness, though. It would have to be something he was cautious of, something to remember as he traversed this world. His fingertip moved once again, shifting to brush against the corner of his mouth and collect the liquid that pooled. Bright red, in contrast to the shades of his skin. His tongue swiped across the small cut, the metallic taste blooming in his mouth. Even after just a short time, he had been damaged by something. His previous injuries, ones that had yielded scars, had been inflicted during great battles. The fact that his blood was drawn to the surface so easily? He felt far more delicate than he ever had before.</p><p>    Despite the weights lifted from his shoulders, there was still concern lingering in his heart, a pressure behind his ribcage. After the conclusion of such a grueling period of his life, some respite was necessary, that much was obvious. But. . . why here? What about the world of men had drawn his exhausted being in, had vanquished the flames of power in his soul and left only wisps of smoke in his veins? It left him only a shadow of what he once was.</p><p>    He had no clue how he would make his way back. Without thrumming power in his blood, Orion as a neighbor and Polaris as a friend, he could not recall a way to ascend to his position among the stars once he was done in this place. To reclaim his crown as a god, as the embodiment of the chaos and war that he excelled in creating. In days past, he was able to bring himself to the mortal world, to visit the men he had known and discover those he had yet to meet, to bring chaos and unrest to the cohorts of men, to whisper into the ear of heroes, but that had not been his full self. Now he was complete, the entirety of his soul crammed into the confines of this familiar body and mind. </p><p>    For a brief moment he wondered if he was even intended to return, or if he had been cast down to the meadows as a final goodbye. When he had retired gold upon his brow, was it determined he no longer had enough worth? Was there some purpose here that he must fulfil? </p><p>    Should that be the case, he supposed it was due time to try and find it. </p><p>    A grunt escaped his lips as he pushed himself to his feet, staggered at his attempt at a first step and paused to regain his balance. His eyes scanned the edge of the river, pausing on the golden loop of woven leaves. A symbol of victory. He crouched to lift it and stood once again, turning to look at the gentle sway and flow of the water. He tossed it- without poise or grace- into the water. It sank below the surface, disappearing in the current as he stood and watched for only a few short moments. The only other object on the beach was one of his own as well. A mask of sorts, one that resembled a boar. It covered only his eyes and nose, attached to strands of red silk that fastened behind the back of his head. </p><p>    He shook the sand off of the preserved bone, tucking it into the inside of his cape where he had long ago sewn a pocket for the exact purpose of carrying the mask around with him. He paused, feeling something else in the pocket he didn’t recall placing there. He drew a scrap of the same silk from the folds of the fabric, furrowing his eyebrows but swiftly realizing what it was intended for.</p><p>    One last thing before he left, then. He reached up to try and get most of the sand from his still-damp hair, doing his best before he drew the rest of it to the side and twisted it into a very loose braid. He used the scrap silk to tie the end of the braid, then released it and let it settle down across his left collarbone and above his heart. The few strands that had escaped the impromptu braid framed his face on the side opposite to the one the braid now sat. A pointed and non-human ear peeked out from the mess of pink now- an indication that he was not a normal man. Those that questioned him on the matter, however, usually ended up with a spear jabbed against their julgar. He was by no means satisfied with his current state- a bit soggy and terrorized by the grains of sand he hadn’t been able to brush away- but this was as composed as he would get for the time being. </p><p>    “Techno? What are you doing here?” Though the voice was vaguely familiar, he couldn’t quite pinpoint who was speaking his name. He looked over his right shoulder, taking a small step to angle himself towards whoever was speaking just a bit more. </p><p>    In an instant, the familiarity was evident. There were very few men that were still alive he had ever truly familiarized himself with. Among them were his. . . father, of sorts, and in turn his “siblings”. Though they had no real relation by blood, he had been adopted once upon a time by a man who had helped him in a time of need. His true origins were for him alone, and for none of them to ever find out. </p><p>    “Decided to, uh. . . drop by,” his tongue was heavy in his mouth. It had been some time since he had spoken like this. The white lie slipped from between his teeth with little effort. Building a persona for the fickle minds of men to believe was one of his specialties. </p><p>    “And go for a swim?” the obnoxious laugh that followed the phrase almost made Technoblade sneer, though he settled instead for raising an eyebrow in vague and silent disapproval. </p><p>    “Something like that. Why are you so far from your walls?”</p><p>    The last time he had visited this place had been through dreams, through the subconscious of the few he had wanted to contact. It had, in actuality, been… years since he had set foot in any part of this place. Still, with the little contact he could sustain he was able to keep very barely up to date. Enough to know that this was far, far away from where Tommy belonged. Where he was safe. </p><p>    This time it seemed he was not as up to date as he thought. The face of the boy fell, his youthful eyes drooping and the bright smile faltering into a saddened and distant grimace. </p><p>    “About that,” the lapse in energy disappeared, replaced by a nervous laugh and a smile that didn’t quite reach the eyes. “Schlatt won the election, he banned Will and I from entering L’Manberg- you have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”</p><p>    Techno shook his head, the name Schlatt not quite ringing a bell. How much had he really missed? </p><p>    “Right, then- there’s a bridge just down here, I’ll fill you in while we head back to the new base. Will will be happy to see you again.” Tommy tipped his head in the direction that Techno could only assume the bridge was. How the boy remembered everything in this place was far beyond him, but with the time he was likely to be spending here he did not doubt it would be easy for him to catch on as well. </p><p>    Their walk was brief, interrupted by the expanse of the river winding between them. He continued along the shore, boots sinking slightly into the sand with each step. It was when he reached the crest of a small hill that he finally saw the bridge passing over the water. It was simple, and there was nothing to keep someone from simply falling off of the wooden platform and into the flowing depths below. He could swim if the rather rickety looking thing decided it no longer wanted to be in this world. He could also say he would not be one to blame it for such a decision.</p><p>    He stepped onto the bridge, peering up at Tommy waiting on the other side. He could swim, yes, but he had yet to discover all the drawbacks of a completely mortal form. Who was to say it would not be able to kill him? He looked back down at where his foot rested on the wood, heaving a sigh before he walked out into the center of the bridge. </p><p>    A rather awful groaning noise prompted him to finish the walk briskly, being greeted by Tommy laughing at the surprise in his expression once he reached the other side. He could almost hear what the boy was about to say between bursts of laughter-</p><p>    “The almighty Technoblade- scared by a BRIDGE! HA!” </p><p>    He stared for just a moment, the dark depths of his eyes filled to the brim with judgement and exasperation. He then rolled his eyes, looking away from Tommy and towards the woods that stretched out before them. This new base would be through the trees. Wilbur was not a fool, he would not build a base in the open air for all to see. As naive as they could be to the workings of the world, he had to give them all some credit. They had made it this far. </p><p>    After Tommy’s fit of laughter, he finally straightened from where his arms had been wrapped around his stomach, wiping beneath his eyes and taking one look at Techno before he let out another small wheeze. </p><p>    “Okay okay, I’m done now, I swear- we have to get going if we want to get back before Will heads out for materials.” Tommy stepped backwards towards the trees, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder and turning on his heel to head deeper into the woods.</p><p>    Techno ducked under a branch and followed, glad that the canopy of the trees raised higher above his head. Yet another abnormal quality- his height. He was taller than Will and Tommy, two men that were by no means small. His chin could rest on Tommy’s head, as he had discovered in the very few tender moments they had shared over the years. For the first time in a long while, Tommy had not gotten any taller since the last they had seen each other. A small smile graced his face as he looked at the back of Tommy’s head, the dirty blonde hair sticking out in every direction. He was grown now. If Phil could see him. . . </p><p>    He pushed Phil from his mind. The Antarctic Empire was the last he had heard from his mortal father, what had happened to him in the meantime? He had disappeared, even from Techno’s realm of influence. He could only hope the man was alright. If he had gone somewhere Techno could not protect him, he had no way of contacting him either. </p><p>    “You know, Will and I have been hoping you would show up sooner or later. We could use some help around Pogtopia. Do you like the name? We thought it would fit well after the election and to piss Schlatt off in the long run and- Techno, are you listening?”</p><p>    The man looked away from where he had seen an apple hanging in the upper branches of a tree, nodding in response to Tommy’s question. He was hungry, a peculiar feeling he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. The apple was a bit high, but if he hopped onto the first branch . . . It would be easy to reach. </p><p>    “Here, take this.” Tommy’s voice interrupted his plotting, and his eyes slid to the fruit held in his hand. It had come out of the backpack that was slung across his shoulders, as it was now in his hands and unzipped. It was much brighter in color, a vibrant red that matched the cape that hung over his shoulders almost perfectly. He took it from Tommy’s hand, inclining his head in thanks and tossing it into the air to catch with his other hand. He raised it to his lips, biting into the flesh of the apple as they walked. </p><p>    His final and most glaring trait was his lower canines. They were sharp, and larger than a normal man’s. Tusks, Tommy liked to tease him by calling them that. In a way, he was correct, though they were not large enough to protrude from his mouth like those of the very boar he was acquainted to. </p><p>    War pig. Both mentally and physically. </p><p>    The sweet taste of the apple filled his senses with a soft pleasure. It was nice, having something that tasted as refreshing as a good apple after years of not needing anything to eat at all. He chewed and swallowed his first bite before Tommy began to speak again in a voice more solemn and serious than the one that usually graced his presence.</p><p>    “The election- that’s where it all went south, really. I won’t make you listen to the whole process, but Will established L’Manberg and gained independence. He thought nobody would be able to beat him in an election- but Schlatt did. Dream-” now there was a name Techno did remember. He and dream had been. . . acquainted before. He was the only man that had ever come close to defeating him. “- endorsed him, their votes combined and. . . Schlatt won. He exiled Will and I, now we have to make do. Eventually we’re going to take him down with Tubbo’s help and now yours.” Tommy’s bright blue eyes cast themselves slightly upwards at Technoblade, hesitant at his statement but hopeful that his brother would be willing to lend a hand. It was dismantling a government, that was what Techno stood for after all. </p><p>    “You’ve learned how to speak a language I’m willing to listen to.” The corner of his mouth quirked, pulling at the scar that crossed his lips. Violence, the rule of beasts. Were they not all beasts in the end? It didn’t matter if you claimed civilization, it was a message that any man could listen to no matter his background or his morals. It was effective and just. He could almost feel a twinge of pride swell in his chest at Tommy’s words. He had come to realization, finally listened to the morals of his eldest brother. </p><p>    He took another bite of his apple, oblivious to the nerves that caused Tommy’s shoulders to almost tremble. If he was being granted the chance to impart his knowledge to the men he cherished most dearly in this world, he would be a fool not to take it.</p><p>    “I’ll see what I can do.” His response was short and simple, but it seemed to alleviate some of the doubts that flooded Tommy’s mind. He had always been open, his emotions were practically written on his forehead. While it was endearing, it did raise the concern in Techno’s mind that someone would try to take advantage of the boy’s nature. As much as he made attempts to shield him- all of them- from cruelty, he could not be there always. Even in a more celestial circumstance, his eyes were not focused on them at every passing second. </p><p>    He was old. Far older than even Phil recognized, he had seen the rise and fall of empires, planted seeds of uncertainty in the ears of men as great as Caesar. Achilles was an old friend, Xiahou Dun a great rival. He had seen war- hell, he had caused war. He was well-versed in this narrative, for it had happened a thousand times. This time, he only hoped he could protect the both of them from the fate that so often plagued men that thought they could be heroes. </p><p>    “The gang’s gonna be back- ohhhh Tubbo’s gonna be so excited when I see him again. He’s our man on the inside, can you believe that?! He’s managed to be part of Schlatt’s inner circle, it’s insane.” Tommy’s usual youthful vigor rocketed back into his body, the bounce in his step and the sparkle in his eyes as he spoke a clear indication of that. </p><p>    As they continued on their journey he listened. Listened to Tommy speak about Tubbo’s accomplishments, his plans for the future. Listened to his description of their base. Listened to his stories about what Techno had missed in his time away. Even if he teased Tommy’s chatterbox tendencies in the past, he had missed it. A good listening ear was sometimes all that he needed to keep himself entertained and channel some of that nervous energy and hyperactivity he was famous for. That was something Techno could easily provide. If years of solitude had taught him anything, it was that patience could defeat even the most formidable of enemies. Once he finished his apple he discarded the core for some passing animal to make use of and turned his attention, once again, towards Tommy. </p><p>    It took quite some time to reach the entrance to what Techno could only assume was the base of Pogtopia. A narrow opening, one that could have been either manmade or natural and he would not be able to tell the difference. He followed Tommy into a small room, wondering if this carved out grove was their magnificent base. There were some small bits of storage, a table with tools laid across it, and furnaces that looked to have been vacant for quite a while. </p><p>    His suspicions were stamped when Tommy continued forwards into a dark corridor, one that continued down into the earth. He followed, having to duck his head just a bit to be able to fit through the narrow passageway. Light soon pricked his eyes, strengthening until the passageway opened into a vast cavern. It was a ravine, one that was completely closed off to the outside world. Torches and lanterns brought a gentle orange glow to the stone as it stretched in either direction for what he could only assume was quite the distance. </p><p>    Makeshift ladders and hastily constructed staircases allowed access into the deeper parts of the ravine. This base was clearly only recently begun. He squeezed the rung of a ladder that dropped straight down to the floor, knuckles gripping the wood as he lowered himself methodically down the rest of the way. His footfalls echoed in the cavern when he dropped from the ladder a few feet above the ground, a dull thump accompanying his landing. </p><p>    “Will, I’m back!” </p><p>    Tommy’s call was loud enough that it was nearly harsh, bouncing off the walls and rippling through the air. Everyone in a several mile radius would have heard that, surely. He shot a glare up at the boy as he descended the same route that Techno had taken, his eyes only leaving once he was safely on the ground and standing beside Techno again. </p><p>    “One of you is going to fall and break your neck on that ladder,” he warned, the fire of the torch on the wall reflecting in the pools of Techno’s eyes. Tommy just shrugged in response, brushing off the man’s concern for his safety. </p><p>    “I’d quite like that actually- Will!” His joke was cut short by another familiar face emerging from a cave that split off of the ravine. He was holding a scuffed and chipped pickaxe in one hand, a torch in the other. There was the dust of stones on his cheeks and speckling the shoulders of the ragged shawl wrapped around his neck, covering the wavy brown hair and the knit hat he had worn for as long as Techno could remember in a thin, nearly translucent film of grey. </p><p>    “Look what the cat dragged in this time.” contrary to the condescending nature of the statement, the smile on Will’s face showed it was a well-intended joke. He set down the pickaxe on a nearby table, returning the torch to a small mount on the wall Techno could only assume it had been taken from originally. The last thing to be retired was the backpack he slid from his shoulders, dropping it to the ground beside a box with a loud thud and approaching the two of them to give a more proper greeting. </p><p>    He ignored Tommy, but the two of them had likely been working together for some time now, there was no need to give him anything more than a hello when he returned. Techno, on the other hand, must have been a sight for sore eyes. If they had been confined to a ravine after exile, any friendly faces or helping hands meant more to them than to the average person. </p><p>    In a more hopeful and colorful time, Will might have yanked him down so his ear was pressed against the man’s sternum and ruffled his hair into disarray. With the atmosphere that their current lifestyle provided, he was instead drawn into a brief but tight hug. His usual playful tone had leaked into the cracks of the stone beneath his feet. It hurt Techno to see the hope and determination he had always known Will to possess fading into memory. </p><p>    With that realization, he had settled his resolve to help them out any way that he could. They needed assistance, someone with experience to be able to lean on. He could provide that, he could provide resources and knowledge. Most importantly, he could try to keep them safe in a way he knew Phil would want him to. </p><p>    “What brings you to our humble dwelling, dearest Technoblade?” Will spread his arms to indicate the blank stone that rose on either side of them and gave a sarcastic bow. Humble was an understatement to describe their new home, but it would make do. </p><p>    “He said he was gonna help us take Schlatt down!” Tommy shot into the conversation, eager to get his edge on the topic. Both Will and Techno stared at him hard enough that he was quick to back down. </p><p>    “Is that true?” It was Will that spoke this time, his weight shifting towards Techno to the point that he took a small step in his direction. They both seemed to be waiting with their breath held, as if their fates rested on his answer to this question. </p><p>    Taken into consideration everything that he had seen thus far? Their wellbeing may very well be hovering over his shoulders, ready to press his heels into the rock with the weight of what he was responsible for. Keeping them safe, making the very few that looked up to him proud? He was not a sentimental man, nor did the opinions of others particularly influence him, but this was something he was more than happy to do. For Tommy and Will, even Tubbo. For himself. Most of all, for Phil. </p><p>    On a normal day, in a normal decade, Techno was tasked with killing those that did wrong. He was the one to swing the sword, sink the spear, fire the arrow. This time was different. He was to protect the ones that were meant to make the final blow. Allow them the space and opportunity to execute their own plan and get their own revenge. If nothing else, it would be an interesting challenge.</p><p>    “It is. I’ll help in any way I can.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Whiskey & Wine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is where the story derives from canon a bit! Just for the purpose of making the story more interesting and cohesive :))</p>
<p>Also, mobs in this world will disintegrate into ash upon death, similar to Minecraft’s particle deaths. I have to tweak some things like the mob mechanics in order to make the story make sense in a world outside of Minecraft. If anything is confusing, I’d be happy to explain!! While it doesn’t come up in this chapter, the only time a character will DIE in this story is at their FINAL DEATH. All other Dream SMP “lives” lost will just be depicted as severe injuries to avoid having to deal with the idea of respawning or having multiple lives. </p>
<p>Reference for Schlatt’s appearance: @rancidflies on tiktok with their permission :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p> <i><br/>If I’m crooked as the shoreline and jagged as these rocks<br/>I’ve kept my heart locked inside that old wooden box<br/>That I built from pieces of my shipwreck at sea<br/>Knowing all you know why do you still love me?</i></p>
  <p>
    <i></i>
  </p>
</div>Hearts and minds were far too easily corrupted. Such had been true since history was written down, and such would be true until history concluded. Any sort of promise of power, of wealth, even at the expense of others, would be taken with little to no hesitation by many.<p>    Achilles was Technoblade’s favorite example of this story. On paper, he was the definition of perfection. A young man, beautiful and strong. He had the blood of the gods- the blood of the sea coursing through his veins, and the sea was not to be tampered with. Once upon a time they had walked the same battlefield, looked upon the walls of Troy, and wished them to fall into dust. The only thing that had fallen was Achilles himself.</p>
<p>    Driven by pride and honor- he had stopped fighting when Agamemnon dishonored him, stolen his war prize. In a time of desperation, he had forced Patroclus to take up his armor for any hope of winning. Instead of returning victorious, he had not returned at all. It drove Achilles to the verge of insanity, going berserk and slaying Hector with no second thought to the prophecy that loomed over him. Killing Hector sealed his fate, but in the blind rage of his poor decisions and neglect of his companion in favor of honor and grace, he had lost everything. </p>
<p>    In a way, Techno could almost see the outcome of this narrative. If Will or Tommy fell into an obsession with power, saw the seat they were looking to burn as an open chair instead? He was unsure what he would do. It stood against what he cared about, what he had been chasing and enforcing for as long as he had existed in this cosmos. But could he do the same to them? To his own makeshift family? Those that had seen him as broken and misguided instead of terrifying and violent- it might break him beyond repair to have to disappoint those that had finally believed in him to be better. </p>
<p>    Phil would have known the answer to his worries. He did not know the extent of Techno’s experiences, of his life story, of what he had done in the name of anarchy and war- but he knew more than everyone else in this reality. The only other one with knowledge that rivaled that of Phil’s was the creator of this world, Dream. He had figured it out on his own and asked Technoblade if his ideas were correct. Technoblade had told him, after their duel, that he had been right. If someone was intelligent enough to find the truth with the power of their own observation, he would gladly play into their abilities. He would also keep them in mind as a potential ally, and a dangerous enemy. </p>
<p>    His hands were folded behind his head to provide some small cushion against the stone beneath him. The vibrant cape that usually hung from his shoulders was stretched across the floor beside the furnaces as they radiated heat to smelt the bits of iron Will had collected in his small journey. His goal was to dry the fabric as quickly as possible- it was the last of his clothing that was still damp after several hours in Pogtopia’s ravine. Spring was a gorgeous time, but it was just the beginnings of the season. Especially where the sun could not reach, it was still quite chilly. The only layers he had were the cloak and the red satin sash that adorned his waist. It didn’t do wonders to keep him warm. </p>
<p>    Just to his right, Will and Tommy had both retired for the evening. They were spread out across bedrolls, and Tommy had a blanket thrown over his shoulders, drawn closer to him in his sleep. </p>
<p>    He was never a big sleeper. Likely because he almost never had the need to. So even now, when he knew his limbs should feel heavy and slow, he felt nothing except restlessness. In a final attempt to tire himself out, he decided to warm up a bit more. Pushing himself up so he was sitting, he paused for a moment to stare at the orange glow of the furnace across the red fabric of his cloak. That was a good start. </p>
<p>    He hobbled his way over, trying to step as lightly as possible and in turn looking like a bit of a fool as he did so. It was alright, there was nobody here to watch him as he awkwardly maneuvered around a box and plopped down in front of the furnace, folding his legs beneath him. He rested his elbows on his knees, staring into the grate of the furnace at the coals glowing a violent orange. Fire was a friend, one that would never judge you for your crimes or your faults. It was lively- hungry and destructive- flaring and catching whatever it wished ablaze. Someone that played for no sides, someone that craved only demolition and unrest. In the vision of anarchy and upheaval, Technoblade was painfully familiar with the kiss of flames. </p>
<p>    He tore his eyes from the inferno, reaching down to touch the velvety texture of the cloak beside him. It was dry now, and the fabric was warm. He pulled it from the floor and back across his shoulders, reaching up to tie the string that fastened it around his throat. The familiar weight was reassuring, not to mention the additional comfort of soft cloth. Until he managed to get some sort of bedroll, similar to those of Tommy and Will, the cloak would be his only saving grace. He grabbed the edges and drew it closer, eyelids fluttering closed as he basked in the light of the fire’s warmth.</p>
<p>    Even as someone that prided himself on his patience, he had no affinity for lying in wait. Patience was working longer hours, finding better routes, not giving into pressure and waiting out the enemy. Not sitting on the floor of a ravine and staring into a furnace while his companions slept. There were still several hours until daylight, he could be getting work done. . .</p>
<p>    At the very least, he could explore the surrounding territory. </p>
<p>    In the wooden chest that he opened he found a few sparse materials he could grab as a precaution. A leather bag that could sling across his back from his shoulder to his waist on the opposite side, some gathered food items he only snagged a few of, and a leather-bound notebook with unmarked pages. The notebook was not something he had expected to find, but something he was more than happy to take. If there was something of note, if he could make a mental map of the area, it would be infinitely useful. </p>
<p>    Already, it proved its worth. He tore a page from the inside of the front cover, scribbling down where he was headed and leaving it on the table. The notebook went back into his bag, the pencil shoved haphazardly inside of the pages. Once he had untied the cloak and laid it on the table momentarily, he pulled the bag over his head so it rested across his back, the strap diagonal across his chest. It laid nearly flat against his back, barely visible once he returned the cloak to where it belonged. If someone wasn’t looking for it, they would have no idea it was there. </p>
<p>    One final thing. His eyes scanned the room, settling on the object he had been searching for. He stepped closer and reached out, fingers curling around the handle of the axe propped against the wall. It was accompanied by a few other tools, but those were of no use to him. He specialized in sword and spear, but he could work with whatever was available. For now, this would do just fine. </p>
<p>    He glanced over his shoulder at where Tommy and Will still slept, his knuckles paling against the axe’s handle as his grip intensified. Every moment mattered more than the last. The further in this storyline they progressed, the more danger they were in. If he was able to get a head start, he might still be able to defend them. He had to get stronger, as strong as he possibly could. And he had to do it quickly. </p>
<p>    His climb out of the ravine was not nearly as pleasant as his descent into it was. On several occasions he felt as if he was sure to fall to his death, resisting the urge to look down into the pit he had come from. Though it was only minutes, he could sense several years being ripped off of his lifespan every time the rung of the ladder shifted or creaked below him. </p>
<p>    Relief flooded through his limbs once he was back on solid ground. He ducked into the tunnel that led to the base’s entrance, following the dim stone path until it opened into the room and, inherently, the outside world. </p>
<p>    The first thing he noticed when his feet sank into the grass was that the nighttime was not so forgiving as the day. The treetops shrouded the moon, casting dark shadows on the forest floor. It was difficult to see, but not impossible. </p>
<p>    The second? He was not alone. His presence had attracted attention, it seemed. He ignored it for now, head swiveling towards the sound of shifting leaves. An abnormally large spider dropped from the branches, a collection of deep crimson eyes twinkling with malice. The creatures that terrorized the nighttime of this realm were truly unlike any other. He lifted his axe, ready to bring it down on the spider’s abdomen should it get too close.</p>
<p>    He was given no opportunity to do so. An arrow streaked by, digging into one of the spider’s largest eyes with a nauseating squelch. He frowned as the spider skittered around for a few seconds before it slowed and curled up on itself, legs folding into its abdomen as the flesh dried and crumbled away. Left behind was a pile of ash and the arrow, the spider’s eye still attached to the razor-sharp tip. He was almost fortunate for the mechanics of life and death here. Taking care of the corpse of a massive spider just in front of Pogtopia’s entrance sounded like one of the least appetizing things possible. </p>
<p>The axe lowered, head coming to rest at his side, hovering a few inches above the ground. He turned to face the direction the arrow had come from, eyes travelling upwards to a low-hanging tree branch two or three dozen feet from where he stood. Porcelain stared back at him, silent and expressionless. </p>
<p>“Dream. You were quick to find me.” Techno broke the silence, the man in the tree shifting so he could hop back to the ground. His feet made no noise as he landed in a crouch to absorb his own impact. His stealth was admirable. Almost everything about him was admirable. He was as close to godhood as someone could get. This world- this realm, it was made for him. He was sculpted from the clay in the riverbanks, fired in the heat of the underworld. Life was breathed into his lungs at the end of it all, granted to him by the very thing he was supposed to defeat. The dragon. . . she was long dead. He had been her downfall, just as she had wanted. A man born from the earth he walked upon, created to expand upon a world she had loved dearly even after he had hunted her to the End of everything that he knew. </p>
<p>Techno hesitated to call him a man, for he was far greater than that. He was the ultimate creator of this realm, and of the people that had been drawn within its reaches. It existed to contain him, to play to his will. It was likely he could become a god with time, but he was young. Incredibly young. Driven by emotion and desire, naive and cruel. This was his world to create and destroy, this was his test of character. Of who he would choose to be when he could be anyone at all. </p>
<p>Techno had not been there at his creation. That was not his path, he did not associate with the creation of life. Though it was likely - if he found a way to leave this rock - that he would be there at his ultimate destruction. </p>
<p>“I know everything that happens here.”</p>
<p>So he had heard. For someone with the wit to discern that Techno did not belong among those that resided here, he was awfully dense at discovering what separated him from the rest of the pyramid. He was the lord, yet he believed himself to be a helot. In Techno’s mind, man should be free to choose his own distinction. Dream had the opportunity to raise a lawless and liberated world, yet he sat on his heels and watched the rise and fall of his allies and enemies. It was peculiar. His emotions were intense and immediate, he fought tooth and nail for whatever he desired. Yet it seemed. . . infrequent that he found something he truly cared for. In a way, he probably knew Dream better than Dream knew himself.</p>
<p>“You must have a reason to track me down so soon. Eager for a rematch?” He tried to keep himself from smiling at his own little jibe, recalling the end to their last encounter.</p>
<p>Dream’s gloved hand raised to the mask that obscured his face. He gripped the edge, pushing it upwards so it rested on top of his head, just beneath the hood of the green outfit he was sporting. His piercing green eyes looked Techno up and down, raking across the curve of his throat and passing all the way down to the toes of his boots before they travelled back upwards again. He stepped closer, reloading his crossbow as he did so.</p>
<p>Techno did not waver as the point of the arrow trained on him. Dream held it at arm’s length, finger hovering beside the trigger. One decision and he could end it. End Techno. But Techno was well aware he would not. Not because he didn’t want to, no - Techno had a feeling Dream would not be upset at a crossbow bolt pinning his skull to a tree - but because he couldn’t. </p>
<p>“That would be a stupid move. We both know it. Death would only be a temporary inconvenience, Dream. I would hunt you to the edges of the universe if I so wanted to.”</p>
<p>They stared at each other, green eyes meeting black. Despite the threat that hung in the air, a slow and lazy smile spread across Dream’s face. The point of the crossbow directed away from Techno’s forehead, shifting instead just above his shoulder and firing with a loud snap. Techno almost flinched, instead stepping sideways and turning so he could look back at what dream had fired at. Some sort of- what the hell was that? A bird? He watched as it fell to the ground, pierced through the wing by the bolt. It screeched and thrashed, Techno shifting and taking a few steps towards it as he raised the axe. Both hands gripped the handle, swinging it downwards to sink into the body of the strange beast. The thrashing stopped at once, disintegrating into ash just as the spider had done. </p>
<p>“Those are pretty new - Phantoms. Bitch and a half to kill.” Dream’s boots entered Techno’s plane of view, prompting him to look away from the ashes, pulling the axe back to his side. The blade dripped, inky black liquid running down the tarnished metal. Techno narrowed his eyes, knowing full well they wouldn’t have existed if Dream wasn’t bored enough to imagine them.</p>
<p>“I need to get you a hobby,” he mumbled, shaking his head in exasperation. The man beside him let out a soft laugh, the palm of his hand coming to rest on Techno’s shoulder. It was comfortable. Familiar. Dream was one of the few Techno would consider a friend. They were rivals, and they were dangerous, but that did not mean they couldn’t be kind to one another. Techno was the only person in this place that posed an actual threat to Dream, could cut him down where he stood at any misstep, yet despite that they could still see eye to eye.</p>
<p>Dream was familiar with his morals. He knew what rubbed Techno the wrong way. So while Techno was fully and entirely capable of ending his existence, Dream knew the simplicity behind not giving him a reason to. As long as they respected each other as warriors and as men, they could coexist peacefully. They could fight side by side or they could face each other in friendly sparring. </p>
<p>“I take it Tommy and Will convinced you to help them?” </p>
<p>“They did,” Technoblade affirmed the question, tearing his eyes away from Dream’s relentless gaze and looking skyward. The stars were visible through a gap in the trees, silvery moonlight spilling down and pooling at their feet. There were no more of the bird creatures, whatever Dream had called them. Phantoms? </p>
<p>The man squeezed his shoulder before his hand fell away, Techno’s chin dropping so he could see just what the other was doing. He pulled a black cloth pouch from his pocket, tied with a thin golden string. It left Dream’s hand, tossed gently through the air before Techno caught it with one hand. He didn’t bother to open it just yet, looking down at it instead to try and figure out what he was being given.</p>
<p>“Token of peace. Should get you started on weapons and armor. I don’t like Schlatt either. He wants to take over more of my land than he already has. Pogtopia has my silent support. . . for now.”</p>
<p>The for now was expected. The only support Dream had ever been consistent in was the support of his own ideas. The instant Pogtopia- or anyone, for that matter- didn’t directly benefit him, he was quick to turn his back on them. Techno knew this only because that was a characteristic they both shared. </p>
<p>Dream’s hand raised to his mask, pulling it back down to cover his face. He motioned a salute with two fingers as he started to step backwards, turning away from where Techno stood without another word and wandering off into the trees. Techno watched as he retreated, observing the polished grey of the armor visible beneath the green fabric poncho. Greaves, gauntlets, the outline of a chestplate- he was nothing if not well-equipped. Suddenly Techno felt almost naked with no armor and a rusty axe. </p>
<p>He grabbed the strap of his bag where it rested near his waist and pulled on it so the bag shifted to his front. The black cloth pouch disappeared into the pocket before he pushed it behind his back once again, making sure his cloak was in an adequate place before he continued on his little adventure. </p>
<p>Though Dream’s impromptu visit was entertaining, it had leached away at the time he had to commit the surrounding areas to memory. At least he had gotten fairly useful (he hoped) materials out of it, and the reassurance that Dream was to be an ally for the time being. In the end, if Pogtopia did something that pissed Dream off, it was highly likely to be something that would lose Techno’s support as well. He could only hope that Will and Tommy were smart enough to tread carefully. For their own good.</p>
<p>It took quite a bit of walking before he came across anything other than forest. Hostile creatures were few and far between, each falling beneath his axe just as easily as the last did. Eventually the trees thinned to nearly nothing, spotting the land here and there, and he stood on the crest of a hill overlooking a winding expanse of buildings. It seemed almost like a plateau- the only connection it had was back towards the woods he had emerged from. A river separated the land from a meadow, more man made structures visible on the horizon. There was only one bridge- at least, only one that he could see. His visibility was limited to only what the light of the rising sun and the scattered illuminations from within the town were willing to show him. From the little he had heard from Tommy during their journey to Pogtopia, this seemed to match the description of L’Manberg. Or. . . Manberg, now. </p>
<p>He stepped from the crest of the hill, moving towards the town as the sun greeted the sky like an old friend. </p>
<p>-=+=-</p>
<p>Netherite armor gleamed on his forearms as he tugged on the strap that connected his chestplate across his waist. After days of work, days of forging and perfecting his craft, he had created his own perfect set of armor. He was unsure exactly how long it had taken, but it was much longer than he particularly cared to admit. At least in his travels he had gathered enough resources to make armor and weapons to protect Tommy and Will as well. This world got more dangerous with every passing hour. More of the citizens tuned into the conflict of their government, more and more defected or operated from the inside. It was only a matter of time before Schlatt knew of every rat that burrowed beneath his presidential throne. If, that is, he didn’t already know.</p>
<p>He pulled the crimson velvet of his cloak over the chestplate, allowing the fabric to shroud part of the dark grey metal that protected his torso. With that fitted properly- he exhaled, tired eyes falling on the blunt edge of his newly forged sword. That needed some work. </p>
<p>If he was going to be hunched over a sword for a significant amount of time, he had to get his hair off of the back of his neck. It was already sticking with the slight sheen of sweat on his skin from spending most of the day in their makeshift forge. He reached up, gathering the soft pink locks into a haphazard bun and securing it with the same red silk he had been using for the braid or half-up hairstyle he frequently sported. For his own comfort, he stripped out of the armor he had just finished making as well, laying it in a pile on the work table and dragging the most comfortable chair out of the ravine’s main area and into his little workspace. </p>
<p>He took a seat and laid the sword across his legs, grabbing the whetstone from where it sat nearby. He had sharpened blades a thousand times. He didn’t have to pay attention to what he was doing any longer- it was second nature. It was also the only reason he could pick up on voices entering the ravine. Tommy and Will returning from whatever excursion they had been on, surely. </p>
<p>His hand froze, fingers tightening on the stone that rested against the palm of his hand. Why did the tone of the voices seem aggressive? He shot to his feet, dropping the sword on the ground in favor of the netherite axe whose edge had already been ground to a razor. Had someone followed them? Were they in trouble?</p>
<p>He reached the staircase that ascended the side of the ravine, a new addition he had insisted upon so he didn’t have to keep using the goddamn ladder every time. His feet carried him up with haste, skipping over two, three steps at a time. He paused once he reached the last section, the voices able to be understood at his proximity.</p>
<p>“Have you gone mad?” Tommy sounded incredulous, so much so that Techno could almost picture the expression on his face. Who was he yelling at?</p>
<p>“Tommy- Tommy, listen to me.” Will? But what- “If I can’t have Manberg, nobody can. I’m doing them a favor! How do you not see this?”</p>
<p>“You- you sided with Dream! He gave you enough TNT to blow the place sky-high, and you just took it! You didn’t even blink, Will!” Tommy’s voice grew ragged, catching at the base of his throat. He. . . sounded like he was crying. Techno could feel his heart tighten.</p>
<p>“I’m taking MY L’MANBERG. It belongs to ME!”</p>
<p>“Those are our friends! Tubbo, Niki, do you not care about them? You’ll kill them all, and you know that.”</p>
<p>He couldn’t stand listening to them talk to each other like this. They were brothers, not enemies. He continued up the last flight of stairs, ducking through the entrance to a small cavern they had discovered long ago. Torchlight rippled through the air, both of the boys falling silent at Techno’s presence in the room.</p>
<p>Tommy’s eyes gleamed with the threat of tears. Will- Techno couldn’t even comprehend the expression on Will’s face. Some sick combination of joy and anger that blended into insanity. He was the first to enjoy destruction and bloodshed, but this was not the Will that he knew. This was not the boy he had watched grow into a man, this was not the playful and kind Will that had comforted Tommy at the drop of a pin. This was not Will.</p>
<p>“What’s going on here?” His voice was low, even. He had to serve as the level head in this exchange, as it was clear Will was too far gone and he had drug Tommy down with him. </p>
<p>“He wants to blow up Manberg at the festival Schlatt announced-”</p>
<p>“I want to take my L’Manberg from those that will hurt it. Nobody will have it if I can’t.” Will cut Tommy’s sentence off, taking a step towards Techno. His eyes gleamed, reflecting the fire of the torches and delivering the appearance of the fire burning in his gut as well. He spoke through a clenched jaw, cheeks flushed with passion and pure fury. </p>
<p>Since the beginning, the destruction of Manberg was the best option. To Techno, it was practically the only option. He had never voiced his opinions on the matter, as these two had cared so much for their make believe city that he knew it would crush them. Will had finally come to the realization of the plan that was guaranteed to have a profound effect. The way he reached that realization was. . . less than optimal. </p>
<p>Techno was torn. Dream had been right in providing the explosives, planting that seed of chaos in the fertile soil of someone unstable enough to accept it. But Tommy was right to be disturbed. Revolted, even. Will was suggesting blowing up their friends. Their government friends, yes, but friends nonetheless. Both sides of the argument hurt someone. </p>
<p>That could be a conversation for another day. Regardless of the morals of their decision, Will was off his rocker. Controlled chaos was the only true form of chaos. Blowing up Manberg without being mentally sound enough to consider the consequences was not chaotic, it was reckless and stupid. He would not allow his own brother to make such a decision in his damaged mental state. He was an undeniably cruel man, but this was his family. </p>
<p>“Will, go downstairs and get some food for yourself. You need time to think. Time to calm down. Sleep if you can. Am I understood?” He looked solely at Will now, his free hand reaching out to take Will’s shoulder, to force the boy to look him in the eyes. He waited for the crazed haze to start to edge away. Once he was met with a small nod, he stepped back and let Will hurry out of the cavern. Even if this was his truth, making Tommy cry was enough to trigger the guilt in his heart. He would come back to earth, enough to be reasonable. </p>
<p>His attention moved to Tommy, reasonably distraught by the whole situation. The boy stood in the center of the cavern, hands clenched into fists and eyes fixed on the spot Will had just stood. He sniffed, the skin of his face and neck splotchy and red. His shoulders trembled, expression one of grief, confusion, and anger. </p>
<p>“Tommy?” Techno spoke, his voice softer and kinder than how he had spoken to Will. Will was borderline insane, while Tommy was delicate. There was a difference.</p>
<p>Tommy’s red-rimmed eyes darted up to him, face morphing from angry to plain upset. The tears that pooled in his eyes spilled over, streaking down his face as he looked up at his brother. </p>
<p>“Wh-what’s gonna happen to him?” His words only came in breathy little gasps, fists relaxing so he could reach up and scrub furiously at his eyes. Techno dropped the axe, the heavy head hitting the stone floor with a clang as he stepped forward. He had barely moved before Tommy figured it out, stepping to meet him with outstretched arms.</p>
<p>Techno folded Tommy against his chest, rubbing his thumb against Tommy’s arm as the boy squeezed his midriff, face pressed into the fabric of Techno’s shirt just above his heart. The shivering of his shoulders intensified as he let out soft and strangled sobs into Techno’s chest. He moved one hand, shifting it upwards to hold the back of Tommy’s head, petting the dirty blonde hair as a way to reassure him. </p>
<p>Now, Techno was not a hugger. He was not keen on affection at all, actually, but he was willing to step outside of his comfort zone to provide some solace to the rift that was tearing through Tommy’s heart. He was willing to get rid of his comfort zone, if it meant keeping the two of them safe and happy. But he would never be able to do that. No matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to keep anyone happy. It wasn’t in his nature.</p>
<p>If only Phil was here. This would have been so much easier.</p>
<p>Tommy’s weight increased as he leaned against Techno a bit harder, prompting him to sink down to the stone floor, folding his legs beneath him without jostling Tommy too much. The younger took the opportunity to adjust himself, pressing against Techno’s side and tucking his head beneath Techno’s chin. Techno had to shift accordingly, dropping his hand from Tommy’s hair letting it wrap around the boy’s shoulders again, pressing him closer as he continued his choked-off sobs and gasps. </p>
<p>“Do you- do you think dad will come back?”</p>
<p>It was a few moments of silence before Tommy interrupted with his question. Techno almost froze, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for just a few seconds. There were times he forgot that Tommy was so young. He was lost. Will had been his guiding light, his north star. Especially in the absence of Phil. </p>
<p>“I don’t know, Tommy. I hope he does.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Vanilla Pines</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The timeline of the Festival and events are slightly altered to fit the narrative, as well as what happens after!!</p>
<p>Reminder that characters only die when they lose their FINAL LIFE in the Dream SMP, any other “deaths” will be depicted as serious injury! If you have any questions I would be glad to answer them!</p>
<p>Enjoy the chapter, let me know what you think and leave any constructive criticism/thoughts/what you’d like to see in the comments!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
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    <i>We cannot run <br/>This love is all we have<br/>Without it we are nothing<br/>But we wear your grace like skin<br/>Taking us where veils are thin</i>
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    <i>Let’s light this house on fire<br/>Four walls bound us no longer<br/>We dance in the warmth of its blaze<br/>Stand tall like vanilla pines<br/>Every day is another try to choose to do more than survive</i>
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</div>The metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air, accompanied by Techno’s soft panting. His hand quivered on the hilt of his sword, the other gripping a shield tight enough that his knuckles were white as snow. The floor of the forest around him was covered in a thin layer of ash, the blade of his sword coated in blackened liquid. It ran down across his hand, making the grip of the weapon slippery.<p>    “Are you alright?” He finally spoke once he caught his breath enough to do so, looking around at the vacant trees. Where had he gone? Techno had told him to get somewhere safe. . . </p>
<p>    “I’m over here. Yes, I’m fine, but I don’t see why you made me get out of the way. I’m capable of defending myself, you know.” The voice came from behind him, and he pivoted to face it as soon as it met his ears. Will was descending from a tree, dropping down to the ground and wiping his hands on his jacket. As usual, no armor. </p>
<p>    “You have no protection. If you refuse to wear armor for your own stupid little reasons, then I will be doing the fighting. This is not to be negotiated.” His eyebrows furrowed, a spark of anger flashing in his eyes. Why was he like this? Refusing to wear armor, trusting his own skills to a dangerous degree, it was a recipe for disaster. Men that were far greater warriors than Will would ever be had been taken down for the same reason. They got cocky. They thought they were untouchable for one reason or another. </p>
<p>    Will rolled his eyes at Techno’s obvious distaste for the situation he had put them in. He refused to wear armor, he refused to acknowledge he was being reckless, what was next? Stop carrying a weapon? Covering himself in raw meat and running into a pack of wolves?</p>
<p>    “We only have to go out at night to avoid Tommy, you know. If we got him on our side you would have no reason to have to defend me, they only come out at night.” Will interjected with his own thoughts as he kicked at a pile of ash with the toe of his boot. As much as he claimed he didn’t care, Techno could tell that Tommy’s blatant disrespect of his plan and his ideas was painful to him.</p>
<p>    “We’ve discussed this a hundred times. Tommy will never support this, ever. But we know it’s the best option, so this is what we’re doing. Manberg is better off being a crater in the ground, and to be left like that.” He crouched down to wipe his blade off in the grass before he returned it to its sheath. The stench of death in the air didn’t help with their conversation, instead piling onto the tension weaving its way between them. Once it was clear Will had no response to his statement he just sighed and shook his head. Pogtopia was nearby, if there was still an issue they could talk about it in the morning. It had been a long night of preparation, and he was tired. </p>
<p>    He turned to start walking again, not waiting to see if Will was going to follow him or not. After a few yards, the man fell into step beside him, arms crossed over his chest and shoulders hunched forwards. He might have pat him on the back if his hand wasn’t covered in drying monster blood still. </p>
<p>    They finished the rest of their journey in silence, Will ducking into the ravine entrance as soon as they came upon it. His newfound instability was exhausting to work with, but Techno had to try his best. It was his brother, after all. Batshit crazy or not, he couldn’t change that fact. </p>
<p>    He laid the sword and shield down by the ravine’s entrance and pulled his cloak off, throwing that on top of them. He was disgusting, there was no way he was going to retire for the night like this. </p>
<p>    There was a small body of water not too far, something between a pond and a lake. He paused at the water’s edge, dropping down to his knees on a large rock that provided some solid surface. He reached out, dipping his hands into the water and splashing some up onto the bloodstained metal of his armor. With some scrubbing at his skin and picking beneath his fingernails, he freed himself of as much of the grime as possible. He tried to shake some of the excess water droplets off of his hands and rested them on his knees, looking into the ripples below at his reflection. The water stilled after a short time, showing his face on the glassy surface. There were bags beneath his eyes, and his hair was disheveled despite being pulled into a braid behind his back. He looked. . . older. That was impossible, immortality speaking and all, but the lingering fear on his tongue was that his immortality was fading between the cracks of his fingers. </p>
<p>    He had been here for weeks. This was the longest prolonged time he had spent in the mortal world, by no desire of his own. He was powerless, weak. He was reminded of it every day when his eyelids grew heavy, the tip of his sword trembling at the exhaustion that overwhelmed him. As hard as he tried to be even a shadow of his former self, the divinity that was left in his soul was untouchable. He could call upon no power, could do nothing except what his fragile and weary physical form would allow. </p>
<p>    “You have to stop him.”</p>
<p>    His head jerked up, looking around his surroundings with attentive black eyes. Who was that? There was nobody around him, and the voice had been female. The only person with a feminine sounding voice he spoke with even remotely frequently was Niki, only because of her association with Tommy and Wilbur. That did not sound like Niki. </p>
<p>    Stop him? Stop who? There were so many people that could fit “him” around here, and nearly every single one of them was going something questionable enough to warrant stopping. Will seemed like the most glaringly obvious choice. If there was some mystery voice telling him to stop Will, the voice was nothing other than stupid. His ideas aligned with Will’s, he wanted nothing more than to see Manberg as a smoking hole in the ground. The definition of anarchy was not frequently up for debate, so why did many seem to lack a basic understanding of that?</p>
<p>    “Hello?” He spoke hesitantly into the open air, breaking the silence to inquire if someone was watching him. Or something. </p>
<p>    After a few minutes of glaring silence, he came to the conclusion that whoever had spoken to him was metaphysical, gone, or both. Perhaps someone he had known, reaching out to speak to him? He had received nothing but radio silence from anyone he had tried to reach out to in his dreamscape, so he had naturally assumed they all abandoned him to his own devices. Left him with the voices that drove him towards violence and unrest.</p>
<p>    He pulled the braid from where it rested on his back and tugged off the ribbon that held it in place, raking his fingertips through the woven strands until they came free, pink hair now falling loose around his shoulders. He tugged his fingers through any small tangles, staring at the surface of the water as he slipped into deeper thought. </p>
<p>    His purpose here, his reason to have been cast down to the shores of the river, had it just been unveiled to him? Rather anti-climatic, not to mention vague. Once he found himself back where he belonged he was going to wring the neck of anyone that still supported giving riddles and prophecies with unclear answers. Stop who? How?</p>
<p>    He could always spill the blood of every man that did wrong. That was an option and a rather good one. But on the off chance the one he was supposed to stop was Tommy, Will, or Tubbo- well, he would rather not think too hard about that potential path.</p>
<p>    It was also possible that he was, in its purest form, absolutely losing it. Would it be surprising to him? No. He had no idea if he was hearing things, desperately trying to reason with himself and creating his own false realities because of it. </p>
<p>    There was far too much to think about. He would have to return to this some other day, a day long after the festival. There was still a week remaining, and they had most of their preparations in place, but they still had to communicate with some of those involved, find a way to observe from a safe distance while Will detonated the explosives. Find a way to keep Tommy from running into the ashes of Manberg.</p>
<p>    He stood after a long while, making his way back to the cave entrance and picking up the few items he had discarded there before he ducked inside and descended down to the ravine. Thanks to the steps, he no longer had to fear for his life on a ladder that could barely hold the weight of all the spiders that had made webs on it. It took him only another minute or two before his feet touched the bottom of the ravine, the warmth of the fire crackling a few meters to his right able to seep into his skin, cater to his tired limbs. </p>
<p>    He set down his armful of things with little regard for their wellbeing and pulled at the straps that fastened his armor to his body, discarding the pieces on top of his growing pile of belongings. It was bedtime, armor maintenance could wait. </p>
<p>    Once he had freed himself of the netherite, he tiptoed past a snoring Tommy to where his bedroll was already laid out. He left his shoes at the foot of the blankets and climbed beneath the heavy pile of fabric he had amassed over time. His makeshift pillow was a crumpled up blanket he had stolen from Will some time ago. It certainly wasn’t luxurious, but it would do. He looked out at the faint glow of the stone walls, the heat of the flames on his back, and closed his eyes.</p>
<p>    He awoke to the sound of soft chatter but was unwilling to pay attention to it just yet. His hands rested against the pillow a few inches in front of his face, close enough that he could feel the breaths against his skin. It was peaceful. He was comfortable, and he was not ready to give that up just yet. Some soft words filtered behind his eyelids, bypassing his tired state just enough to be understood.</p>
<p>    “We should ask Techno-”</p>
<p>    “Don’t, Will. Let him sleep.”</p>
<p>    His eyelids slipped closed once again, and he fell back into a heavy slumber.</p>
<p>    He woke for the final time to Will standing over him, a hand resting on his shoulder and jostling him from his rest. He blinked as his eyes opened, squinting up at the man leaning over him. He had a folded paper clutched in his other hand and an expression that was halfway between terrified and excited.</p>
<p>    “I’m sorry to wake you but- Dream stopped by this morning with a letter from Schlatt. He’s invited you to the festival. He must not know you’re part of Pogtopia yet-”</p>
<p>    “Will! I told you to let him sleep!” Tommy’s voice was somewhat distant, as if he had just entered the ravine. It drew closer as he spoke, footfalls echoing on what was obviously the stairs until he came into view a few seconds later. He seemed annoyed at best, glaring at Will with his arms crossed over his chest. “He’s always gone to bed after us and woken up before us, and the first time he actually sleeps you go and wake him up-”</p>
<p>    “What time is it?” Techno interrupted the boy, shifting to push himself up onto his elbow and rubbing his eyes with his free hand.</p>
<p>    “Probably just turned afternoon, why?” Tommy responded to his question, watching as a bleary Techno sat up completely and folded his legs beneath him. </p>
<p>    “You should have woken me up,” Techno said through a yawn, reaching out and plucking the paper from Will’s hand so he could read it himself. </p>
<p>
  <i><br/>    Dearest Technoblade,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>        It is my pleasure to extend this formal invitation to yourself and yourself alone. In 7 days time, on October 16th, the Manberg Festival will be held to showcase the success of this great nation and to celebrate democracy in its truest form. I sincerely hope you will be able to join us, as you have proven to be an invaluable friend of some of this nation’s dearest citizens. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>    Best,</i><br/>    President J. Schlatt<br/>
</p>
<p>    His eyes drifted over the slight smudge in the ink signature. So this was handwritten. He had taken the time to handwrite a letter inviting Techno to the festival. Techno was perplexed- he had done little to aid Manberg, he spent a majority of his time stockpiling resources, working on his own base of operations, and strengthening himself and his equipment. </p>
<p>    It seemed a bit too good to be true. But with Will’s reaction, it seemed as if Will did not think the same. Techno could acquiesce, he supposed. Attend the festival. He knew what was supposed to happen, he could prepare himself. It was better than Tommy or Will putting themselves in harms way, that much was certain. His tired eyes flit across Will’s hopeful expression and Tommy’s hesitant one. </p>
<p>    “I’m sure we can find a way to make it work.” </p>
<p>    The week that followed was a blur. Will paced up and down the ravine, mumbling to himself about buttons and wiring, hardly taking a break to eat or sleep unless himself or Tommy forced Will to sit down. When he wasn’t caring for Will’s splintering morality, he was working on a crossbow of his own. It shot crossbow bolts- but with all the extra TNT they had around, he was able to make some modifications to it. It now shot explosives. They detonated on impact, and they packed one hell of a punch. He was oddly proud, for having designed a murder machine. He acquired another notable weapon- a trident. It stood nearly as tall as he was, shimmering a gentle blue. This world was nearly devoid of magic and of power, but not completely. The trident, among few other key items he had seen, was able to channel what little abnormalities graced this landscape. It returned to his outstretched palm at his will, and granted him small traces of power he would have once called weak. Without the strength he was used to, having a gentle thrum of energy pulse through his body in time with his heartbeat was one of the most comforting things he had experienced thus far. Its effects were minute, simple amplification of his general physicality, but it meant far more to him than he would have ever thought possible.</p>
<p>    The day of the Festival arrived too soon. The air was crisp as he sat beside the lake, staring out across the still waters. His armor was fit against his body, crossbow and sword ready to silence anyone that might oppose him. He expected something to go wrong, but he wasn’t quite sure what that was yet. Maybe the explosives would go off at the wrong time, maybe he would be killed where he stood in some complex trap- a million possibilities slingshot through his head. </p>
<p>    “Techno?”</p>
<p>    He looked over his shoulder as Tommy approached, beckoning for the boy to come closer. He sat down next to his older brother, shoulders hunched in that terrible posture he always had. They sat in silence for some time, observing as mist curled off of the water’s surface because of the contrast in the air’s temperature. </p>
<p>    “I know you don’t like going to Manberg. But you’re not what they say you are,” Tommy spoke with the confidence of someone who had rehearsed their phrase in their head. His head turned, black eyes meeting blue. Of course he knew that Tommy was talking about, how could he not? He could hear whispers about how he was a monster. Too powerful. Cruel. Leave it up to Tommy to try to mask what people said behind his back. It had never even crossed his mind that things like that might hurt someone. He had heard them his whole life, it was a testament to his character. The story of Beowulf was not all told around a campfire, and their monster had a familiar face. For centuries his deeds had been twisted and burned at the edges, so he found he no longer cared about the brief tenure he took in the minds of men that would forever be irrelevant to him.</p>
<p>“It’s alright, Tommy. Let them call me a monster, it only makes them look worse. I’ve heard it all before,” he said, holding Tommy’s gaze until he finished his explanation. This was not the reason Tommy had come to sit with him, no. They had had this conversation before, this was not something they needed to discuss. His shoulders were tense, his eyes were distant. Tommy was scared. If Techno had to guess, Tommy was scared of losing everyone he had in one fell swoop. His friends in Manberg, all of his brothers- everyone was in danger today. </p>
<p>He pushed himself off of the ground, picking up his weapons as he did so. It was time for him to head to Manberg, if he wanted to make it there by midday. He looked down at Tommy, who remained seated in the grass. Both he and Will would be leaving a bit later, they still had some time.</p>
<p>“I’m prepared to be the monster if I have to be.”</p>
<p>The meaning of the statement was ambiguous, and he intended for it to stay that way. It had multiple meanings- he was prepared to kill everyone to save a few, he was prepared to stand against the ones he loved, he was prepared to face an impossible task. </p>
<p>In the week before the Festival, Techno had done many things. He had strengthened himself, he had cared for Will, he had made last minute preparations. More than all of that combined, he had taken time to think. In politics, he was loyal to himself and himself alone. Men were born and men died in a blink of Techno’s lifetime. The only constant he ever had was himself. He had told himself he would protect them, he would do what Phil would want him to in order to preserve the family they had found in each other. But he was not Phil. He would protect Will and Tommy if they fell under fire, he would do what he could to keep them safe and to assure they stayed that way.</p>
<p>But, if it came down to it? His loyalties were his own. He would do what he had to do, whatever that may be.</p>
<p>He could feel Tommy’s eyes watching him as he walked away from the lake. The boy said nothing, electing instead to watch as his eldest brother disappeared into the foliage of the forest to march towards an event he believed there was a possibility he would not return from. </p>
<p>Tommy was blissfully ignorant to the waning immortality of his brother. His memories from brief moments of childhood where Techno was present had been since chalked up to simple differences in aging and lifespan. He saw examples of such in any other non-human entities of this world- Fundy was the only he knew the name of, but he was aware that there were others as well. Even farm animals had differences in maturity rate, in how long they lived- humanoids were the same way. </p>
<p>It was a prime example that humans would believe anything that made a seemingly perplexing event rational and explainable. It was amusing to see them scramble to come up with a possible explanation, and convenient to cater to his own manufactured persona of himself in this world.</p>
<p>The forest grew thin, halting at the crest of a small hill that would descend into Manberg’s territory. He had walked this path before, many times. This time, his sword was heavy with the weight of potentials. For once in his life he could not see a clear cut best ending to a conflict. Each had its own downfalls, making it no better than the rest. As much as he hated the prospect of having no answers, there was simply nothing he could do to change it. </p>
<p>He stepped off of the crest of the hill, heavy footfalls carrying him into a city alight with the artificial joy of a festival. </p>
<p>He was met at the entrance to Manberg’s festival grounds by none other than Niki herself. He had barely spoken to her at all in his time here, but they were familiar enough with each other to be more comfortable in companionship with each other than with anyone else here. She was a spy, working with Pogtopia from the shadows. That alone was enough to force them to be moderately friendly with one another. He hung thowards the back of the small crowd of people. Few of them knew much about him, and he knew even less about them. It was best it stayed that way. You did not often associate with the enemy unless you had the intent to kill him as he lounged in the comfort of your presence. </p>
<p>There were some designated activities scattered around, cheap games and tricks to keep people entertained as they waited for the president ot take his podium. Techno looked towards the empty space on the stage as the others tested the accuracy of their throws or something like that. He felt a soft touch on his elbow, looking away from the stage and towards Niki as she attempted to get his attention. She whispered something about blending in and slipped away from him, working her way into the clump of people to socialize and maintain their trust of her. </p>
<p>He was fortunate enough to not have to do the same. He barely knew them, he had no reason to speak to them as he had no reputation to maintain. He could stand back and observe with little question, only speaking to those that approached him. </p>
<p>Speaking of those that approached him- Fundy. He was small, and he looked young. In technicality, he was Techno’s nephew. Will’s son. Though if he asked Fundy, he doubted it would be easy to admit as such. As much as he cared for Will, the man was not a terrific father. Despite the tension via their actual connection, Fundy had never bothered him. He was a sheep, he followed the leader, strove for acceptance. He was not strong, but he was cunning enough to know how to be on the right side of conflict. He never had to use his sthrength if he was protected by his alliances and affiliations. It had been a long time since they had last spoken, but they shared the mutual struggle of being at least partially inhuman. Their opinions were often swept under the rug even if they were far more qualified to be giving them than some of the others here.</p>
<p>The boy stood beside him, glancing up at him but quickly looking away at a loud cheer. Someone had hut the target dead on. Fundy’s ears twitched at the loud noise, shifting away from the source to mirror the distaste in his facial expression for the ruckus. </p>
<p>“Why do they always have to be so loud?” he wrinkled up his nose, asking the question to himself and nobody else. Still, Techno could provide his own twist on an answer.</p>
<p>“They’re too dumb to know any better. Ever noticed who the ones are starting all the issues around here?”</p>
<p>Fundy laughed, his hand shooting up to cover his mouth and muffle the noise. After the tremor in his shoulders stilled, he pulled it away and looked back at Techno with an amused twinkle in his eye. </p>
<p>“I should not have laughed at that.”</p>
<p>“Probably not, but I wasn’t wrong.” Even Techno had to smile at his own response, a small upturn pulling at the corners of his lips. Fundy opened his mouth to reply, only to be drowned out by a booming voice coming from the main stage of the festival. Schlatt.</p>
<p>It was about to begin.</p>
<p>He shuffled his way over to the seats, having to remove his trident from where it was strapped across his back in order to sit down. He didn’t recognize those that sat nearby, but that was irrelevant. His attention had to be on the president and the president alone.</p>
<p>He briefly wondered if Will and Tommy were ready. Tommy would be watching from somewhere safe, and Will would be in the detonation room. The place was supposed to blow in the middle of Tubbo’s speech, with hope that he would be on stage and far enough from the ground that he would not be injured by the explosives. Now that he was thinking of Tubbo-</p>
<p>He glanced at Tubbo on the stage. His shoulders were rigid, but there was an artificial smile plastered on his face. Techno couldn’t make out the details of his expression at this distance, but he could only assume it was a mixture of fear, anticipation, and doubt. In just a few moments he could be blown sky high, that was pressure on anyone. Of his little family, he was least familiar with Tubbo. Phil had taken him in quite later on, some time after Will and Tommy. At that point, Techno had barely been to visit them. He knew enough about Tubbo to know he was a good kid, but he had no real motive to learn much more. He was mortal, and he was full grown. There was no reason to learn about a man that would exist for only a brief period of his life. The only reason he knew Will and Tommy was because of Phil. He had needed a helping hand, having to manage two children plucked from dreadful situations. He grew attached to them just as he had with Phil, through prolonged, involuntary exposure to Tommy’s sticky little toddler fingers and Will’s phase of refusing to eat anything except cookies. Anyone would be roped in by having to deal with that, wouldn’t they?</p>
<p>Schlatt began speaking, drawing Techno’s attention away from his vague reminiscent state and back to the present day. </p>
<p>He thought Schlatt would have a lengthy speech, but found instead his only purpose was to introduce Tubbo. A shudder ran down Techno’s spine as the boy stood on the stage, moving to stand behind the podium and resting his palms on the wood. His suit was tailored to his figure, making him look older and more mature than Techno knew him to be. Had he really grown this much? It was hard to say, he had almost no memories to compare Tubbo’s current appearance to. </p>
<p>“A wise man once told me that L’Manberg was like a lettuce. There are so many layers of tasty and healthy goodness-”</p>
<p>It was at this point that Techno tuned out the speech entirely. What had possessed him to compare a splintering country to a lettuce, of all things? It was absurd. He would never be able to understand what went through the minds of these men, and at this point he was unsure if he ever wanted to. He adjusted his trident so it leaned against his shoulder, wrapping an arm around it so the crook of his elbow rested against the weapon’s shaft. Casual enough that he wasn’t openly armed and ready at a political event, but he could weild the weapon at a moments notice. Any one of these people could change their minds at any given second.</p>
<p>Schlatt’s voice cut through his lack of attention, the atmosphered of the guests around him reciprocating the intensity at which he spoke.</p>
<p>“Are you done with the speech, Tubbo?” he asked, cocking his head at the boy that stood behind the podium. </p>
<p>“Y-yeah I’m done with the speech. On that note, let the festival begin!”</p>
<p>Techno’s stare locked onto the president, watching as he rose from his seat and strode towards the podium where Tubbo stood. He paused when he stood in front of it, his back to the audience and his hands gripping the edges of the podium as he towered above the clearly terrified boy. Techno stood straigher in his chair, hand shifting towards there his crossbow was strapped against his hip. Schlatt’s shoe shifted, nudging the base of the the podium, and a horrifying metal screech made Techno cringe.</p>
<p>In a split second, Tubbo was trapped. Schlatt had activated some sort of machine- walls rose on either side of the boy, the podium containing him in the front. </p>
<p>It had all been a trap. He should have been more adament about that from the start- he had had his suspicions, but he had not voiced them. What a fool he had been. </p>
<p>He pulled the strap that secured his crossbow with his left hand, able to free it and grasp the handle. One good shot-</p>
<p>“I know what you’ve been up to, Tubbo.”</p>
<p>Blow it. Will, come on, detonate it and end this before it gets too far. </p>
<p>“Conspiring with the TRAITORS that wer banished from this land, from this great country. Do you think I’m an idiot, Tubbo? I’ve seen the tunnels, I’ve seen you sneaking off during great events.”</p>
<p>Techno did all he could to keep himself from jumping to his feet. He could kill everyoe here, he could save Tubbo, he could prevent the grief that Tommy and Will would feel. But was that his place? Was this his story to tell?</p>
<p>“Treason isn’t exactly respectable around here, Tubbo. You know what happens to traitors, huh? You know what happens to traitors here? Nothing good.” The malice in Schlatt’s voice was eident even from sitting a good ways away. Tubbo had to be beyond terrified right now. </p>
<p>“Hey, uh- Technoblade? You want to come up here for a second?”</p>
<p>His name graced the lips of the president, and his heart sank to the heels of his boots. He had known Tubbo, and now he knew Techno as well. It had all been a setup, it had all been a trap. </p>
<p>He rose from his seat, returning his trident to where it usually rested across his back. He could play along as long as he could, stall for Will to push the fucking button. His footsteps were slow and purposeful as he ascended the steps at the side of the stage. Yet not slow enough. He walked across the front, his grip on his crossbow intensifying as he finally came to stand just in front of Tubbo’s impromptu prison. The stage was shaped with an extension of the platform in the center, a place for the speech giver to be able to walk out beyond the limits of the rest of the stage. He stood on that outcropping now, the only thing behind the heels of his boots being a rather unpleasant looking drop to the ground. </p>
<p>Tubbo stood before him, pressed back against the wall that contained him. His bright blue eyes were wide and terrified, swtiching between Techno’s face and the crossbow he was wielding. They both knew what was going to be asked of him, and they both wanted nothing more than to stop it.</p>
<p>“If you could- if you could do the honor of. . . taking care of this traitor.”</p>
<p>He knew exactly what was about to come out of Schlatt’s mouth, yet it still slammed into him like a freight train. He tore his eyes from Tubbo and looked over at the president, his eyebrows creasing as he glared at the man. Schlatt stood there with a smug smile, arms crossed over his chest. He knew exactly what he was doing. </p>
<p>“I don’t know what you mea-” he started to speak, only to be cut off by Schlatt.</p>
<p>“Kill him. Get rid of him and show this great country that you don’t stand for traitors, Technoblade. You don’t stand for traitors, do you? Traitors like your brothers?”</p>
<p>He swallowed, eyes drawn back to Tubbo like moths to a flame. This was never what he wanted, but when did he ever get what he desired? His life was not one of pleasures or joy, it was chaos and war and pain and suffering. This was not what he wanted, but this was what fit his narrative. </p>
<p>War pig.</p>
<p>He pulled one of the crossbow bolts from where they could be stored against the side of the weapon, fitting the bolt into the track and drawing the string back to its release point. It was one of the explosive arrows. It did the most damage- if it was aimed properly. </p>
<p>He lifted the tip of the arrow to trail between Tubbo’s eyes. He never missed a shot, so why would he start now?</p>
<p>“Tubbo. Tubbo, look at me.” He spoke softly, just for the ears of him and the man he was speaking to. There was no way out of this situation, at least no good way. “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>He jolted the tip of the crossbow downards as he fired, the bolt making impact with the ground in front of Tubbo’s feet. An explosion rocked the podium, Tubbo thrown backwards the few inches he had moved from the wall. He'd be gravely injured, but he wouldn’t be dead. The explosion would cause enough distraction- but he could cause even more. He reloaded the crossbow and pivoted, firing down into the crowd so the bolt hit the middle of the walkway. Run, run away from here. </p>
<p>Most of them got the message as he reloaded a second time, and the ones that lingered fled upon a second explosion sending tremors through the ground beneath their feet. He turned once again, intending to get to Tubbo and get him out of this place, but was interrupted by Tommy leaping from the stage’s roof between the two of them. He must have gotten up there in the chaos of the outburst- good. He could help Techno get Tubbo to safety-</p>
<p>Tommy jabbed forward with the blade of his sword, ripping a gasp from Techno’s throat as the blade sunk into the unprotected flesh of his side. The downfall of these chestplates were the small gaps they left- gaps only someone that had a similar set of armor would know about. Once the sword was yanked from his side, Tommy pulled the podium out of the way and dropped to his knees in front of Tubbo, abandoning his sword beside him and reaching out to pull the unresponsive form of his brother closer to him. His chest was still moving- he was alive. Of course he was alive, that was Techno’s intention. But judging by his reaction, Tommy would not see it that way. </p>
<p>“Tommy we have to go-”</p>
<p>“GET OUT OF HERE! HOW COULD YOU?!”</p>
<p>Tommy looked over his shoulder at Techno as he cried out, tears streaking his cheeks and betrayal written across his face. How could he not understand? He had saved Tubbo, he would heal. </p>
<p>He took a step back, feeling the edge of the podium beneath his foot. Feeling confused and hurt, he turned and leapt down to the ground to avoid the hatred in Tommy’s eyes.</p>
<p>He took the fastest route out of Manberg, hoping to avoid any and all stragglers. He couldn’t handle conflict right now, he was injured and emotionally distraught. He encountered nobody, able to flee into the safety of the forest and set his route for Pogtopia. Once he was alone, he returned his crossbow his hip and pressed the heel of his hand against the wound in his side, cringing at the pressure and the warmth of the blood leaking between his fingertips. </p>
<p>In his head, the image of Tommy’s face replayed over and over again. How could he have been so naive? Of course Tommy hated him, it was inevitable from the moment that Techno had ever laid eyes on him when he was only a child. He had an aura of hatred and violence, if anyone spent too long with him they turned against him. He spent much of his time alone for a reason. Oh, how foolishly hopeful he had been to think it would be different this time. </p>
<p>He staggered as he reached Pogtopia’s entrance, having to brace himself on a nearby tree. They wouldn’t want to see him now. He turned instead towards his own base he had been constructioing, one they knew nothing about. He could lick his wounds and return in a few hours, give them time to cool down enough that they wouldn’t kill him on sight.</p>
<p>He descended to his base once he reached it, opening a chest against the wall and grabbing the few medical supplied he had obtained. When the chest fell closed, the bloody handprint on the edge stood out in his vision, focusing in his eyes as they blurred around the edges. </p>
<p>Warmth flooded his cheeks, something dripping into his shaking hands. He lifted one to his face, wiping it against the trail of liquid grief. He was crying. He scrubbed just below his eye with his fingertips, smudging blood across the skin of this face. He hadn’t cried in decades- centuries, maybe. Had he really been weakened enough to cry? To show his emotions so profusely?</p>
<p>He ripped his armor off and discarded it as he fought back more tears, cringing as he pulled his shirt from his back and discarded that as well. It was in tatters- blood soaked and ripped. The wound was not pretty, it was in a spot that would bleed for a long time. He would be weak and disoriented for days, even if he treated it perfectly. He would not have been so concerned if this had happened only a week ago. Will and Tommy would have been able to look over him. But now- he might as well be alone. </p>
<p>He sunk to his knees as he wrapped the bandages around his waist with shaking fingers, strands of pink hair falling into his face as they escaped the loose braid they had been pulled into. He felt worthless. Despised by the only ones he had cared for, likely to never be looked at the same again. </p>
<p>This base was too large for him alone. He had wanted to show it to Will and Tommmy eventually, as a gift of equipment and a place of refuge and safety. The blackstone walls pressed in on him as he knelt in the center of the room, the weight of his actions pressing his knees into the stone floor until they ached and begged for relief. He would not give it to them, instead staring down at the red painted across his hands and forearms, staring down at the proof of the monster he had become. </p>
<p>The whispers as he passed, the mumblings behind his back. Monster. Cruel. Inhuman. </p>
<p>They had been right.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Belly of the Deepest Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh boy this is a long one!! We see some intense character development in this chapter alone, as well as Phil!!! Hi Dadza, welcome to the story :D this covers a majority of the Manberg Rebellion!! It took a long time to write, so any feedback/constructive criticism/thoughts in general in the comments is greatly appreciated!! Hope you enjoy!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
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    <i><br/>Do you remember seeing the man<br/>Covered by the same blood he damned<br/>Join the song with the sky in the darkest hour<br/>I need something to hold on to<br/>Stronger than the iron that held you<br/>Louder than the roar of the crowd that day</i>
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    <i>The beats of hammers felt like drums of war<br/>Killed for the words you swore<br/></i>
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</div>In the waning light of his own miserable company, Techno found himself dwindling down to the equivalent of the wax at the end of a candlestick. When the wick coils enough that the flame sparks and jumps, turning erratic as it takes its final breaths. It splutters, one final surge of fire before all that remains is the tiniest dying ember and whisps of bittersweet smelling smoke.<p>    The blood on his hands had long dried, turning a sickly red-brown and clinging to every crevice of his skin. He still sat on the stone floor, the edges of the bandages around his torso soaked with crimson. How long had it been since he had come down here? A few hours, surely. Long enough that his throat felt dry and he wanted to do nothing more than lay down and sleep. For how long, that much was not up to him to decide. As long as possible was his preference. </p>
<p>    His absence was unfair to Tommy and Will. They were likely confused, hurt- he paused, pushing the thought from his mind that they would have been worried sick. Not anymore. </p>
<p>    He had to grip the edge of the chest beside him, hand covering the bloodstain that had been there previously. It took more effort than he cared to admit to get himself back onto his feet, and even greater effort to make his way to the storage area with minimal stumbles. </p>
<p>    He fumbled to pull a shirt on, one that was larger and therefore able to shroud any and all imperfections with greater ease. If he was going back to Pogtopia, he sure as hell was not going to let them know he was weakened. He thought he knew his brothers, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. He pulled his cloak back over his shoulders, fingers struggling to tie the strands that secured it. Was there anything else in here he could use? His eyebrows furrowed in thought, eyes passing over the several racks of half-finished armor and finally settling on the wall of various labeled containers. Half of them were empty, for he had only just begun to collect materials for this place. But one thing he was sure he had-</p>
<p>    He opened one of the containers and pulled out a glass flask, the fluorescent liquid swirling with an almost otherworldly shimmer. He pulled the cork off of the bottle, tipping it to his lips and drinking the contents of the bottle. He cringed and shook his head at the foul taste, but the effects were recognizable almost immediately. It lasted a few hours, but it was enough to get him there and back. Enough strength to hold himself steady and push his warring thoughts to the back of his head. He was glad he had brewed several of these just a few days ago. Though he was not using them for their intended combat purposes, he was putting them to use nonetheless. With just enough pep in his step to look as he usually did, he moved with a degree of caution towards the exit, ready to make his way to Pogtopia and face whatever fate had designed for him.</p>
<p>    As a last-minute thought, he grabbed the trident that had been tossed to the ground, still attached to the leather holster he had designed for it. The strap held the trident diagonally across his back, easily accessible yet not in the way enough to bother him if he had no immediate use for it. With the familiar weight of a weapon on his back, he finally climbed the short staircase that led to the outside world.</p>
<p>    The night had only grown darker in the past hours, the moon directly overhead. He could see a majority of the night sky stretched out before him, the silver light accentuating the discoloration beneath his eyes. He found Polaris quickly, reaching a hand up so his fingertip covered the star. It was as close as he could get to a reminder of the life he had almost forgotten in the chaos of this mortal world.</p>
<p>    “Grant me strength, old friend,” he spoke in a whisper, eyes slipping closed for the briefest of moments as the nighttime air stilled around him. He could almost imagine the reassuring company of someone he had shared a vast amount of time with. More time than anyone here could almost comprehend. </p>
<p>    His hand dropped to his side, a gentle chill and a brisk breeze disrupting the one comfort he had allowed himself to seek. He looked away from the sky, starting towards the cover of the trees and just barely missing the light of the north star flickering with a sad goodbye. </p>
<p>    It took him nearly twice the time it normally did to reach Pogtopia. Whether it was slow movement due to his precaution regarding his current state or it was dread slowing the subconscious movements of his feet was a mystery, one that he doubted would ever be solved. </p>
<p>    As he ducked into the descending pathway that led to the ravine, he thought about how quickly he would agree to a redo at whatever challenge he was being forced to face. He had made mistakes he should find unforgivable. In a second attempt, maybe he would be able to prevent himself from disrupting the already delicate balance of the family he had found. He would be able to prevent himself from hurting the few that cared. </p>
<p>    Voices carried through the air as he emerged into the main area of the ravine, turning to walk down the stairs. His footsteps echoed on the stone, causing the voices to hush almost immediately as he descended to the solid ground. </p>
<p>    His eyes had been focused on his feet, his thoughts focused on not allowing himself to stumble or fall. It took far too much concentration to continue to operate as a normal living thing for his liking. When he looked up again, the first thing he noticed was the tip of an arrow pointed directly at him. He blinked, glancing at the few people in the ravine to gague their reactions. They all stared at him, not a word coming from their mouths. </p>
<p>    “Techno!” Will shoved the bow to negate Tommy’s threat, stepping towards him with arms open in greeting and a wild look in his eyes. What had gone wrong with him? What had prevented him from igniting the entire purpose of the festival?</p>
<p>    “Why didn’t you light the TNT?” His words came out sharper than intended, as was evident in Will’s flinch at the aggression in his voice. </p>
<p>    “About that- I couldn’t find the detonation room.”</p>
<p>    “You- what?” Techno’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. He got LOST? He couldn’t find a room he built in a nation HE ESTABLISHED? Techno felt the beginnings of anger prickling at his stomach. </p>
<p>    “After- after you left, I talked to Schlatt, and realized the bomb wouldn’t do anything yet. It had to wait-”</p>
<p>    “You couldn’t have GOTTEN THAT INFORMATION TO ME?” The anger boiled over, his irises flashing a deep red as the whisps of power in his veins reignited. Will took a step back, eyes widening. “I stalled for you- I stalled and I waited for the place to blow. It never came, the explosion never came so I had to take care of it myself. Tubbo was hurt because the explosion never came, Will. What other choice did I have?” He took a step forward but was able to stop himself before he reached for his trident. The red in his eyes dissipated, the flare of anger fading into nothing. Temporary power that surged through him choked and failed, only leaving him more exhausted than he was before. Will just stared at him, shocked at the outburst from his usually stoic brother. The uncomfortable silence that settled was shattered by Tommy. </p>
<p>    “You hurt Tubbo.” </p>
<p>    Techno looked towards him, seeing he hadn’t put the bow away. An arow was nocked and aimed at the ground, fingers ready to draw the string at any moment. His own brother was willing to shoot him. That piled onto his already faltering perception of himself, checking off Tommy’s name on his mental list of companions that ended up hating him. There were very few left unchecked.</p>
<p>    “I didn’t have a choice,” he said, peeling his eyes away from Tommy to look at Tubbo instead. He was sitting on a chair they had pulled closer to the fire, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and wide blue eyes staring over at them. A pang of guilt burned his throat, and he had to look quickly away from the injured boy.</p>
<p>    “You had every choice. You stood there and you shot an explosive at him. You could have KILLED HIM, Techno. What were you thinking? How could you do that?” Tommy stepped closer to him, the bow eventually being discarded on the table he stood beside. He strode up to his brother, jabbing the tip of his index finger against Techno’s sternum and staring up into his eyes. At this proximity, Techno could see the storm that surged in Tommy’s irises- they were grey and angry, flooded with the rains of hurt and betrayal. He had caused this. Techno had caused the rift that he could almost see forming in the floor between them. </p>
<p>    “Schlatt would have killed me if I disobeyed. There were guards all over the place, all of them had their weapons drawn on me. I didn’t kill Tubbo because I didn’t want to- I aimed at his feet and knew the explosion would hurt him but not kill him. I was willing to accept that because if I hadn’t they would have killed me along with him. Then you would have been standing in this ravine alone. They knew about me, they knew about Tubbo, which means they knew about Niki as well. What would you have liked me to do instead?” He tried to remain composed, tried to see the logic in Tommy’s argument. Why must he always have his emotions ingrained so deeply into his actions? It was exhausting, Techno could never keep up. He tried to remember what Tommy disliked, what rubbed him the wrong way- but it seemed to change every time something happened. How could anyone please him?</p>
<p>    “I would have liked you to USE THE BRAIN IN YOUR HEAD! You always say you’re strong, but you can’t even stop yourself from hurting him? Hurting Tubbo- you could have just not shot him! It’s not that hard, Techno!”</p>
<p>    Tommy’s finger pressed harder against his chest, and at that moment it was clear to Techno where his brother’s priorities rested. He had explained what would have happened- explained that they would have killed him if he had refused- yet anger still dominated his expression. </p>
<p>    It was clear that Tommy had never truly cared for Techno’s wellbeing. He was an advantage- a weapon. He was strong and reliable, but he could now see that he was naive. Naive to think, even for a second, that the people he even called his family could care. He had experienced far more betrayal than any mortal man could ever comprehend, but this? This one felt as if someone was twisting a pitchfork in his stomach. Tommy would have rather Techno died than hurt Tubbo. The tradeoff in his head- Techno didn’t even want to think about it. </p>
<p>    “It’s not that hard?” His voice was even, as he didn’t trust himself to have any inflection. He would explode if he let himself feel anything. The intensity of mortal emotions almost baffled him, and it was something he could not yet contain. “If I had refused I would have died. Do you expect me to give up my life to save Tubbo from two weeks of pain? Even then- they would have brought someone else up that would not have BLINKED at leaving him dead.” </p>
<p>    He reached up and grabbed Tommy’s hand, pushing it away from his chest with a bit more force than necessary. Tommy’s shoulder jerked as his arm was pushed back towards him, the glare on his face only intensifying. </p>
<p>    “Tommy, he had to. It’s okay,” Tubbo spoke from where he sat, the sad look in his eyes refusing to dissipate despite the shaky smile on his face. If they had been in a different scenario, he would have let out a sigh of relief. Tubbo could understand- Tubbo had been in the line of fire. He knew there was no way out. </p>
<p>    “How can you forgive him? He almost blew you up and he didn’t suffer any consequences for it-”</p>
<p>    “Didn’t suffer any consequences? Have you lost your mind?” Techno couldn’t help himself from speaking now. He would accept betrayal in forlorn silence, but he would not accept lies. Especially not about him. “Did you forget about stabbing me? Did you forget I had to choose between hurting him and laying down my life? You may be closest, but he’s my brother too. I stood on a platform in front of a city of people and was asked to kill my own brother. Is that not a punishment?”</p>
<p>    His breath was coming heavier when he finished, the fatigue from the injury and the small sparks of power beginning to catch up to him. He was exhausted, and he wished to lay down to sleep. Then he could wake up and realize he had been dreaming. That it was the morning of the festival. Or, even better, that he had never ended up here in the first place. </p>
<p>    Tommy’s demeanor changed as he spoke, shifting into a more defensive stance. He had taken a step back, the anger turning into confusion and surprise. He had hoped to instill realization, but with Tommy that was unlikely. </p>
<p>    “You stabbed him?” It was Tubbo that spoke now, standing with some difficulty. Tommy turned, not to confront Tubbo but to press his hands against the boy’s shoulders and push him back into the chair. When he looked back, he realized that all eyes were on him now. Will stood off to the side, looking between the two of them. Niki was standing some ways away, close to Tubbo but still staring at Tommy in utter shock. He wasn’t averse to fighting, in fact, he was quite fond of it, but it seemed uncharacteristic of even him to stab his own brother.</p>
<p>    “I didn’t- I thought you would-” he couldn’t seem to finish his sentences, stumbling over his own thoughts. His expression changed at an alarming speed, coursing through what seemed like the 5 stages of grief within the span of a minute and a half. It was either that he didn’t think he had actually stabbed him- or he had done it without thinking. Both seemed equally likely, but if he had stabbed Techno and not even bat an eye- if his gut reaction was to injure his allies? That was concerning, to say the least.</p>
<p>    He finally settled on horror and disgust, stepping away from Tubbo and crossing his arms over his chest, grabbing at the sleeve of his shirt and shifting his weight uncomfortably. </p>
<p>    Techno watched as he was overwhelmed with guilt, but he could hardly concentrate on that fact. He was feeling almost woozy, finding it hard to focus on Tommy’s face. The potion was wearing off, but he should have had more time. He had payed careful attention to the effects, to how long they lasted, this should have kept him going for hours. It had been barely even one, and he could feel the way his strength was waning. He had to get out of here, get back to his base. They had no business seeing him at his weakest, especially when they had proven they would leave him to die at their first convenience. </p>
<p>    “I just wanted what was best for Tubbo. What was best for L’Manberg.” The voice that came from Tommy was quiet, so much so that he almost didn’t hear it. But he heard it. Oh, he heard it. Similar to what happened with Will, those dying lights of power were rekindled. The only difference was the intensity to which they returned. Before he had felt the dull warmth of a torch in his belly, spreading across his limbs but unable to extend across his entire body. Now, the sun had implanted itself into him, displaying its inferno of red flames in the windows of his eyes, sewn into the fibers of his clothes, and burning him from the inside out. This was power. This was him. The closest he had felt to himself in weeks, and yet it didn’t feel good. It felt quite awful. For it was in response to his brother. </p>
<p>    He was a god of war, of chaos. Negative feelings stemming from conflict fueled him. Rage and guilt, animosity and fear- all of the contempt that filled the hearts of his companions only added to the inferno that consumed him. </p>
<p>    “I have made it clear from the beginning that I will only be satisfied when Manberg is a crater in the ground from which nothing will ever rise.” Almost against his will, he stepped forward, his voice raising in volume and intensity. He felt someone try to touch his forearm, but he yanked it away, crimson eyes still focused entirely on Tommy. “This is what government does- pits people against each other! They chase you away, kill you on sight, and you crawl back to them. Why are you so adamant on saving that place?! It’s caused you nothing but pain, and now it hurts the people who try to protect you and you defend it-”</p>
<p>    He felt the impact of Tommy’s hand connecting with the side of his face, his head turning so he was looking at the stone wall. </p>
<p>    “It’s my home, Techno!” He yelled, the hand that had just slapped Techno clenching into a fist at his side. He looked up, finding that there were tears gathering in the boy’s eyes.</p>
<p>    That didn’t exactly matter to him. He had killed men who were weeping onto his boots before. </p>
<p>    He reached out, grabbing the collar of Tommy’s shirt and yanking him forward. He shifted the hand to close around the boy’s throat as he stepped forward twisted, in one smooth motion pulling Tommy across his hip and onto the stone floor beneath his feet. He settled one knee on Tommy’s chest, fingers still pressing his neck harder into the stone floor. He could feel how labored Tommy’s breaths were, how difficult it was for him to take a gasp of air after the impact of the floor knocked the wind from his lungs.</p>
<p>    “Look around you Tommy. Your home is gone. There’s nothing for you to save, you live in a cave like a coward and think you’re a hero. Manberg won’t listen to a child with a death wish- Manberg won’t listen to peace. The only universal language is violence- we’ve had that conversation, we’ve spoken that language. You know better than anyone that your Manberg died with the walls.” </p>
<p>    He paused, realizing his grip had tightened to the point that Tommy couldn’t breathe at all. He hadn’t even noticed. He let go immediately, standing and looking down at where Tommy gasped, rolling onto his side and reaching up to touch his throat as a cough ripped through his body. </p>
<p>    Monster. Inhuman. Cruel.</p>
<p>    Just as quickly as it had exploded inside of him, the intensity of his power fled from his body. That was him- his true being- the source of his morals, the source of his violence and his spite. He had. . . hurt his brother. He could see the mark of his hand on the delicate skin of the boy’s neck, and he felt as if he might vomit. What had he done?</p>
<p>    He tried to step back but staggered, the fragility of his body nearly overwhelming him. The pain in his side thundered, and a splitting headache wormed its way into his skull. He had to reach out to press a hand against the wall, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him. He watched through clouded vision as Tommy recovered, pushing himself up onto his elbows and then his hands and knees, pausing for just a few moments until he was able to get on his feet again. </p>
<p>    He pulled his hand off of the wall to step back once Tommy fully recovered, trying to put distance between the two of them. If he had already done this much damage, who was to say he wouldn’t do more? He had injured Tubbo and now Tommy, he was barely in control of himself as it was. He had said he was willing to go to extreme measures to sustain his morality, but he hadn’t taken into account the way his gut twisted at his actions. He had never experienced something like this before, so he could only assume it was some downfall of his mortality. </p>
<p>    Emotions were amplified by the timeline of a mortal lifespan. There was so little time to feel so many things, that it was almost insane how intensely a mortal could feel. Love, hate, everything in between- they were able to feel so strongly because of the inevitability of their own death. He was not used to such vulnerability, such emotion. His own morality did not consider that now he could experience overwhelming guilt- overwhelming fear of losing those he cared for. Even the prospect of such loss was amplified. In other times, he would have only blinked at the idea of losing one of them, but now he found there was a sense of dread laced into the complexity of his mind.</p>
<p>    “Techno?” His brother’s voice was hoarse, making the man flinch at the sound. He had caused that. Every negative feeling in the world seemed to be crashing down on him simultaneously. Why wasn’t Tommy looking at him with hatred? Where was the sword, the kiss of metal on his throat? It was surely what he deserved. He had valued his own life above Tubbo’s, had injured Tommy because of it. His breaths picked up, eyes flickering down to the floor as the edges grew fuzzy and dark. He was lightheaded. If he didn’t get out of this ravine he felt he might suffocate. </p>
<p>    His heartbeat was thundering in his ears, drowning out all other sounds around him. He could feel his thoughts going fuzzy, bracing himself against the wall once again with his forearm, but this time he couldn’t keep himself on his feet. He collapsed forwards, falling onto his knees, the heels of his hands digging into the stone below. He clenched his hands, fingertips grating against the stone hard enough that small stains of sanguine bloomed from beneath the skin. </p>
<p>    “Techno?!” Tommy’s voice was clearer now, closer to him as well. He felt a hand on his shoulder, assuming it could only be his brother. Why would he come any closer to the man that had just hurt him? What was his logic behind this? Tommy continued to perplex him, switching between hatred and concern. “What’s- where is the wound? You look like you’re about to die-” Tommy mumbled to himself, clearly not expecting an answer as he took the trident from Techno’s back and gently pushed against Techno’s side to get him to shift and sit down. The touch sent a spike of pain through the injury as Tommy prodded it unknowingly, causing Techno to let out a soft hiss. He did as Tommy had indicated just to be able to get away from the discomfort, finding himself sitting with his shoulders pressed against the stone and his brother leaning over him, hand pulled back towards his side. </p>
<p>    “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to touch it,” he whispered, reaching out again to untie the cloak and push it off of Techno’s shoulders, away from his side. He frowned, seeing the way the white of his brother’s shirt was starting to turn crimson. </p>
<p>    “This looks bad- Techno, why didn’t you come back here? We could have helped-” </p>
<p>    Techno opened his mouth to speak but was only able to make a soft, pained noise, his head falling back against the wall as he squeezed his eyes closed. The way Tommy had disturbed the injury had made him significantly more conscious of the pain, which still pulsed through his body at every beat of his heart. His grimace slowly relaxed, creases in his complexion evening out as the dull fuzz that had consumed his thoughts grew louder, possessing his mind and plunging him into a darkness he would not be so quick to recover from. </p>
<p>    -=+=-</p>
<p>    When the winds of the furious storm in his mind settled, allowing him to surface above the waves and take in desperate gulps of air, he was finally able to return to consciousness. His eyes flickered open, still accompanied by a dull haze that settled over his mind. His thoughts were sluggish and muddled, but they were there. He was lying down, something soft beneath his fingertips and pulled up over his chest. It was dark, save for the distant glow of torchlight. </p>
<p>    He pushed himself up into a sitting position with a soft groan, raising a hand to push his hair out of his face and rub the sleep out of his eyes. He could feel the pressure of bandages wound around his abdomen, looking down at the blanket that had fallen from his torso. They had taken care of him? Despite the fact that they all didn’t like him? It made no sense. </p>
<p>    He forced himself to stand, finding that his cloak and trident were sitting just at the foot of the bedroll. His bedroll. Not anymore. He grabbed both items, situating himself as he made his way to the base of the staircase. It was best that he could leave with nobody there to observe. </p>
<p>    He was mistaken. </p>
<p>    As he stepped onto the first stair, he was disrupted by the clear of someone's throat. He looked over his shoulder, finding Will approaching from his right. He stepped down from the stairs, turning to face the man. </p>
<p>    “Tommy still won’t forgive you.” </p>
<p>    He frowned, wondering why that was the first thing out of Will’s mouth. He knew Tommy wouldn’t forgive him. Who would? He had grown to expect it. </p>
<p>    “Tommy never wanted to forgive me. The second Tubbo was injured, it was made up in Tommy’s mind that I was not his ally. He may have helped me- I don’t know why- but he does not like me. Not wanting someone to die and not particularly caring for them are two very different things. He just did not want my death on his own hands.”</p>
<p>    He did believe his own words, truly, but he also failed to acknowledge the swirling uncertainty that surrounded nearly every occurrence in the past few days. Could he even call it the past few days? He had no clue how long he had been unconscious. If the fact that his physical strength was nearly restored factored in, it had been a long while. </p>
<p>    There seemed to be more than 2 sides to every situation, but showing such doubt and weakness would only further the possibility that his precarious relationship with Pogtopia would be severed completely. The more days went by, the more he realized the complexity of the world surrounding him. It had never been something he noticed when he had no reason to. </p>
<p>    “Do you still support Pogtopia?” </p>
<p>    Techno locked eyes with Will, stepping closer to grasp Wil’s forearm and pull him in. His voice dropped, assuring even the most talented of eavesdroppers would be exempt from their conversation. Despite his doubts, despite the way his elegant form wavered in the blistering sun of difficult decisions, he had to appear completely transparent. Now more than ever, it was essential that he enforced his morals. If everyone knew exactly what his aims were, exactly what he intended to do, it would be much more difficult to pin blame on his back without making themselves look stupid. </p>
<p>    “I still support you, Will. Manberg will burn to the ground, and the corruption of their power will be erased from the face of this land. Unless your opinions have changed?”</p>
<p>    Will gripped Techno’s forearm in return, the unspoken connection between them serving a far greater purpose than anyone might have realized. They were both alone in their endeavors, two souls with a perspective on this world that nobody else shared. They could work together, they could support each other and achieve a common end. If that meant that Techno had to tolerate the way that Tommy looked at him with distaste, he would do it without question. The torches on the wall reflected in Will’s eyes, wide and hopeful. He could almost imagine the flags of Manberg fluttering among the flames, burning in Will’s mind and feeding the flames of chaos and destruction that had wound themselves into his very being. </p>
<p>    “Never. The next opportunity we have- it’s gone. The city is gone.”</p>
<p>    Techno inclined his head in a nod, releasing Will’s arm and taking a step back until his heel bumped against the stair. </p>
<p>    “A crater in the ground from which no government will ever rise again. Nobody will remember there was once a nation, nobody will be able to see what’s left through the smoke.” </p>
<p>    Will’s eyes glittered, the reflection of the torches seeming to overtake his entire expression. He was a fuse, and he was waiting to burn to his end. </p>
<p>    “Nobody can have my L’Manberg.”</p>
<p>    And just like that, Techno had lit the end of the fuse, watching as it wound slowly towards a bomb, ticking with anticipation. He turned and made his way up the stairs and out of the ravine, leaving the remnants of his failed attempt behind. He was not a man built for lying in wait, he was not built for secrecy and espionage. </p>
<p>    He was built to bask in the light of the fires he had set. </p>
<p>His first mistake had been believing he could keep everyone happy- but he was no longer bound by expectations. He had already shattered the little reverence his brother held for him, he had already disappointed the few left that believed in him. There was nothing left for him except a pursuit of tranquility. Nobody could be free under the restrictions of a tyrant. Now he could focus on doing it his way.</p>
<p>He had plenty of work to do.</p>
<p>-=+=-</p>
<p>Trustworthy men were difficult to come by in wartime. You never quite knew where someone’s loyalties truly lay- be it with you, with your enemy, or with themselves. It made things much easier when you were able to focus your attention entirely onto yourself, or perhaps one ally should you be lucky.</p>
<p>Techno spent his days in silence and solitude. People didn’t hear from him for weeks on end, and when they did it was a passing moment of companionship. He avoided Pogtopia unless it was mandatory his presence was nearby. His base expanded, the storage room slowly filling with innumerable riches. He would be nothing if not prepared. </p>
<p>He was able to collect one weapon in particular that made even him wary of its power. He had to collect the undamaged skulls of several of the undead in this world- or, below this world. The nether was his second home, collecting fragments of netherite he could then smelt down and use, polish until it shone and fortify it with what few advantages he could gather. </p>
<p>He frequently communicated with Will, receiving updates on who was on what side, on what was needed and what was happening inside of Manberg. Unrest was stirring more than ever, person after person defecting from the splintered nation in favor of a more comfortable refuge. Will was wary of every one of them- if they were loyal or not, if they would backstab anyone within Pogtopia. With time he grew paranoid, confiding in Techno that he no longer trusted even Tommy. Nobody was on his side. Techno had a suspicion that it applied to him as well- the more time went on, the more reserved Will became. He trusted only himself, and Techno could see the way he was unraveling because of it.</p>
<p>He was reaching the end of his fuse. </p>
<p>As Will became almost dangerously erratic, Techno finally decided it was time to force his hand. If there was no action soon, there would be nothing at all. Will would finally shatter, and the rebellion would turn into a rescue mission. He was not willing to let that happen. </p>
<p>His hand rested on the butt of his pickaxe, affectionately named ‘Technodrill’ for some time now. He forgot who had suggested the name, but it stuck. Will was within the depths of a serious discussion, gesturing and speaking some ways away. Techno could see from where he watched at the top of a very small hill, overlooking the congregation of people that were to be the fighters of their rebellion. The date was soon approaching, just over a week if Techno had to take a guess. Once Will was one with this conversation, he would know for sure.</p>
<p>He sat in silence as Will walked away from the group, making his way up to Techno to deliver the news of the coming conflict. </p>
<p>“November 16th.” </p>
<p>The two words were short, forced through clenched teeth. Will was upset about something, but Techno knew better than to prod a live wire. It would be best to leave him to his own devices until after Manberg’s downfall. </p>
<p>His preparations had been made- he had long been ready for the ruby red sunrise on the morning that Manberg would crumble into a distant memory. </p>
<p>It arrived sooner than expected. He had amassed even more resources despite already being prepared, deciding having too many was better than, in some insane scenario, having too few. It was approaching sunrise, he had been up all night sharpening the points of his trident and the blade of his sword. It was about time for him to travel to the rendezvous point. He had a surprise in store for those he would be fighting alongside.</p>
<p>He ascended to the surface once his armor was fit against his body, trident and sword across his back, shield suspended over top of them. His crossbow hung from his hip, covered by the fabric of his cape. He was prepped for war. </p>
<p>Only a few minutes of walking found him approaching a small group of people. Everyone seemed nervous, talking amongst themselves. Will and Tommy were both present, but both isolated from the rest of the group. There was a silent tension in the air around them. Would they all return home today? That much was yet to be determined. </p>
<p>“Everyone follow me. We’re short on time- I have something to show you.” he announced his presence with the command, attracting the attention of everyone in the group. Fundy, Niki, Quackity, Tubbo, and of course Will and Tommy. It was a small crowd, but it was easy to overturn a nation if you have a little bit of an. . . explosive entrance. </p>
<p>He took the same path he had just followed, coming upon the entrance to his base. Not even Will had seen this- the stairs descended to a small room, one with his bed and some other basic necessities- </p>
<p>He pulled up the trapdoor that led to a ladder, dropping down into the entrance and snagging one of the lower rungs of the ladder. He had plenty of practice with this, it was second nature by now. The blackstone room opened up around him, walls covered in chests, 5 full suits of netherite propped on the back wall. He turned to the astonished crowd that formed, watching as the last person descended from the ladder.</p>
<p>“Get yourself equipped. We will be nothing if not prepared.”</p>
<p>Newfound excitement flooded the atmosphere, the chatter growing louder as they spent quite some time rifling through equipment, finding what fit best and what sword was just the right weight- he had made sure there was enough for everyone. </p>
<p>Patience was a virtue. With enough patience, you could beat any man. Know your own abilities, and know the abilities of your comrades, and you will know no fear. Time and commitment could overcome nearly any talent. </p>
<p>He was in his element. He knew war better than any living man, for he had been war. He had seen the rise and fall of Rome, he had known the Mongols and the Huns. He fought alongside Heracles, aided Sekhmet, and shared a dinner table with Athena. He had met Ares on the battlefield, had whispered commands into Hector’s ear alongside Apollo. He had watched Theseus defeat the minotaur, and had silently aided him in his journey back to Athens. </p>
<p>He was born in war, and he would die in war. They had crossed into Techno’s territory, and he was not one to give up his ground so easily. Corrupting a government assembled by those who were naive and young was simple. Schlatt could feed his god complex, catering to the superiority he claimed he did not have. But he was not a complex. The wrath of a god was not something to be dismissed. Even without his power, any mortal man would fall with his boot on their throat if he so wished it.</p>
<p>Clad in armor, stocked up on arrows and potions, the path to Manberg was set. They followed it together, marching towards the inevitability of crimson-stained grass. </p>
<p>This date was predetermined, but their course was not. It had been established that a tower- one Techno had not cared to know the name of- would be their first taking point. Higher ground, ground that could be fired down from. He was in agreement with such a plan, it seemed that whoever had made these decisions was not poorly versed in tactics of organized combat. That was something he could respect. </p>
<p>As soon as they were within realistic range, an arrow dug into the soil just to his right, narrowly missing Fundy. It had come from the top of the tower- he squinted, able to make out ram horns behind the bow. Schlatt himself was fighting. If nothing else, at least he wasn’t a leader that cowered behind his troops when times of war came. But it was a mistake for him to be here. He would die one way or another. </p>
<p>Techno raised his crossbow, a bolt hitting the stone below the edge of the tower, the thunder and explosion sending Schlatt stepping away from the edge. It would be enough time to meet them face-to-face. He hooked his fingertips into the grooves of the stone, lifting a foot to push off of the window sill on the first floor. There were enough hand and footholds to ascend the exterior easily, the ground growing farther and farther below him. Some followed suit, others deciding to head inside and take the stairs despite the potential of traps.</p>
<p>He swung over the top of the tower, finding that Schlatt and whoever had aided him were gone. He hadn’t seen their exit, unfortunately, so he could not pursue. His attention turned to the ground below as he reloaded his crossbow, aiming down at movement and firing. A hoarse yell came from the impact of the explosion, a man he couldn’t recognize due to distance scrambling away clutching at his shoulder. </p>
<p>Another arrow fired up at them from seemingly nowhere, burying itself in the stone beside Will’s head as he drew his bowstring back, returning fire. He wasn’t wearing armor- how had Techno missed that?</p>
<p>As soon as Will fired he stepped in front of him, pulling his shield from his back and holding it in front of him, ducking his head behind the wood as an arrow lodged its tip into the surface with a dull thud.</p>
<p>“Will- why aren’t you wearing armor?! You’re going to get yourself killed!” He hissed, to which Will simply pulled another arrow and drew the bowstring back, stepping away from Techno so he could aim properly. </p>
<p>“You know I hate armor.”</p>
<p>“This is the middle of a war! You couldn’t have tolerated it for one day? I made you full netherite and you just ignored it?!” He snapped at his brother, head whipping in the direction of a loud noise. His braid fell across his shoulder as his head moved, his attention focusing on Fundy. The boy had jumped back, smoke rising off of the stone in front of him. It had to be a similar mechanism to Techno’s own arrows. He had used them here once, he wasn’t surprised they had managed to replicate it. He pulled the boy back by his forearm, leaning forward towards the edge to fire his own explosion back at whoever was standing just beyond the base of the tower. </p>
<p>He glanced back towards Will, wishing he could force the man to put some armor on. He would give up his own if it would fit properly- armor that didn’t fit was even worse than no armor at all. He frowned, making a mental note to stick close to Will so he could protect him if need be. </p>
<p>The last fighter of Manberg pulled back, and Will’s voice rose above the chatter of war. </p>
<p>“Half of you head to the docks- the other half, towards Manberg!” </p>
<p>In the chaos of numerous people scrambling down the tower, he lost track of what direction everyone went. Where had Will gone? What was Tommy doing? He had no clue. He dropped to the ground, boots meeting grass, and picked a direction to travel as he reloaded his crossbow once more.</p>
<p>The wood of the docks was long forgotten as they pressed inland, having chased the enemy from the water and into the city. They were approaching the center of the city itself, starting to meet up with the second group of soldiers. </p>
<p>His eyes caught onto one in particular, having to lift his sword to deflect the blow of an axe. His eyes narrowed as he stepped back, taking in the state of Dream. He had his porcelain masked pulled down, expression completely unreadable, but if Techno had to guess it was a twisted grin. He thrived off of chaos and destruction, he wanted nothing more than control. As long as he was no tyrant, Techno left him to his devices. But active combat was not the time for him to reminisce upon his tentative friendships.</p>
<p>He pushed himself off his back foot, his slash parried by Dream’s shield. He had to duck to the side to avoid the shield being pushed towards him with hope of connecting with his head to cause some damage. He swung his sword, aiming low this time, able to catch the edge of Dream’s calf before he leapt away. They stood across from each other, Techno adjusting his grip on his sword as he prepared for an actual fight. </p>
<p>Shouts from his left distracted the both of them, and several of his allies fell down upon Dream. He tried to fight them off, but he couldn’t combat 4 people at once. After a few moments he raised his shield above his head to protect himself from an axe swing, simultaneously calling out-</p>
<p>“WAIT!”</p>
<p>The action paused immediately, all eyes focused on Dream. </p>
<p>“We- we surrender. Will, come on. I have to show you something.”</p>
<p>The silence turned into instant confusion. Surrender? That was sudden- too sudden. The way Dream and Will exchanged a silent glance made Techno’s skin crawl. They had worked together before, who was to say they weren’t working together again? </p>
<p>He dismissed his concerns, following the two of them both out of curiosity and the need to keep an eye on Will. He was bound to get himself into trouble around someone as cunning as Dream. </p>
<p>Their journey ended at a rather unimposing. . . van? He furrowed his eyebrows, stepping inside the door and instantly recognizing what Dream wanted to showcase. Schlatt.</p>
<p>The president was drunk, laughably so. He reeked of alcohol, barely able to keep himself upright. It was disgusting, frankly. Such a man was in charge of a country? The doings of mortals never failed to confuse and concern him simultaneously. He had seen the freakish intelligence of Schlatt at work, the way his charisma manipulated the thoughts of everyone around him, but electing an alcoholic into office in the first place? It was no wonder Tommy and Will needed his help to get anything reasonable done around here. </p>
<p>Schlatt’s words slurred enough that he couldn’t understand a single thing he said, watching instead as he spoke to the few that had gathered fairly close to him. People were all over the van- inside, outside, surrounding the gap in the roof he could only assume was from age. Everyone watched, waited. The president looked ill, ghastly- he picked up another drink, lifting the bottle to his lips and taking a large gulp. Almost immediately he coughed, raising a hand to wipe at his mouth and staggering through a footstep. He almost fell into Quackity, his ex-right hand man, and looked up at him with an expression that was unreadable even to Techno. His mouth moved, words being spoken to a man he had once called his friend. Quackity caught Schlatt as he fell, having to sink to his knees to do so. It was sudden- his collapse prompted everyone to hold their breath. </p>
<p>“Schlatt- Schlatt?” He asked, pushing the man off of his chest and lowering him so he was laying on the floor. His chest was still- his skin was paling by the second. “He’s dead. Did he just- have a heart attack?” Quackity looked up from the body of the President, eyes finding those of Dream across the room. He was the recognized leader of this world, and with Schlatt gone heads naturally turned towards him. </p>
<p>Techno had no interest in the politics of this interaction. He slipped past Fundy, ducking his head as he walked out of the door to the van. Schlatt’s death was abnormal, one of the most abnormal he had ever seen, but it had no effect on him. He had no connection to the man, nor did he particular care that he had met his demise. If he had no affinity towards any given person, he cared none about their downfall. It was one of the perks of living as long as he had. You stopped caring for those that you deemed irrelevant to your own goals. </p>
<p>His feet carried him towards the podium, pausing as he stood in the center of the walkway between the rows of benches. He looked up at the podium- the box was gone. All proof of Tubbo’s captivity, his injury- it was gone. But he could still see it. He could see it as if it were still there- it visited him in his dreamscape on occasion. He had memorized the details of the scene. </p>
<p>Scared eyes staring out at him, the explosion, Tommy’s retaliation, he knew it as if it were playing on a screen. He had gone over it a thousand times, tried to see where he went wrong, tried to see what mandated the animosity with which Tommy looked at him. He never found a solution. One day he would have to ask someone he trusted to explain to him the idea of exchange, of value- especially when it came to life. It was something he didn’t think he would ever understand on his own. </p>
<p>Slowly, more people joined him outside of the van. The day dragged on, multiple people in conversation about details surrounding the dismantling of Schlatt’s administration. He could only assume it was talks of who the land would be distributed. With Manberg gone, there was really nothing else they could do. </p>
<p>His attention was stolen from where he was inspecting his sword by the presence of people standing in front of the podium. Dream and Tommy? Tommy spoke, gesturing to Tubbo, who was quickly brought into the conversation. Tommy and Tubbo were smiling, talking between themselves and then turning back to Dream. He wished he could know what was being discussed, but it was not his place to be incorporated in such a conversation. </p>
<p>Everyone had collected in the festival area, he noticed, as he was joined by the man himself. Dream had left their conversation, grabbing a stray chair and pulling it beside Techno’s own. He flipped it backwards, sitting down and crossing his arms over the back of the chair. </p>
<p>He shifted, lifting his hand to mask a yawn and stretching his arms over his head. Dream chuckled, Techno shooting a silent glare at him. </p>
<p>“You might want to pay attention to this,” Dream commented, pointing towards the podium to direct Techno’s attention. He obliged, seeing Tubbo start to ascend the stairs and cross the stage. It mimicked that fateful day so long ago, but this time Tubbo had a genuine smile on his face. </p>
<p>“It’s my pleasure to announce that I’ve accept the position as president of L’Manberg-”</p>
<p>Techno’s head rang. His ears thundered with noise, and if he had been any angrier he had no doubt he would have seen red. President? Did Tubbo just say the word president? He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other and watching. His jaw was clenched, hand tightened into a fist. They had made another government. They stood there- Tommy beside Tubbo, looking out across the carnage of the battle they had just struggled through to dismantle their own government, and they created a new one. He was sitting there, watching as Tommy agreed, watching as tommy adjusted his armor- Techno’s armor- and nodded along to Tubbo’s presidential speech. </p>
<p>He was a weapon.</p>
<p>They had used him as a weapon.</p>
<p>His head filled with white-hot rage, a rage that ignored the fact that Tubbo and Tommy were his brothers, ignored the fact that Will slipped away from the congregation without anyone noticing. He had been clear with his intentions, clear that he despised the government, and they had accepted his aid, and then turned their backs on him and established a government as he sat and watched. </p>
<p>He should have known. He should have known even his brother would outright betray him. Everyone always did, he was a weapon to be used and disregarded at the earliest convenience. He was a warrior, someone that thrived off of violence and chaos, but he was not made of dirt. He had drive, he had desires, he had infinitely clear intentions, yet people still went against them. They never cared, they had just gone along, and agreed for the purpose of appeasing him. The instant the fighting stopped, he was useless. </p>
<p>“I’m behind you, Techno,” Dream’s voice broke through the ringing of his violent anger, and he looked at the man that sat beside him, acknowledging the statement with a curt nod. Manberg was supposed to be gone, yet they intended to keep it standing. They were supposed to leave the city, and Will was supposed to blow it sky high. Will had told him that would happen- told him it was agreed upon beforehand. Had Will lied? Where was he- Techno had some questions to ask. No matter, he could ask them later. </p>
<p>He watched in silence as Tubbo continued speaking, refusing to register any of his words. It was all the same. It was only when Tubbo descended from the stage, started walking down the path, that Techno found himself willing to do something. He pulled his trident from his back, the power that coursed through the material warming the skin of his hand. His eyes tracked the boy’s movement as he turned, and Techno found the perfect opportunity. He stepped forward to gather momentum, lifting the trident and channeling his momentum to drive through his shoulder as the threw the trident. It soared true, the prongs burying themselves in the boy’s gut as he turned to look out at the people. He staggered back, eyes widening as he looked down at the weapon lodged in his stomach. Tommy whipped around, sword in hand, and looked for the source of the throw. </p>
<p>Techno strode forward, not even trying to hide his action. Tommy was stunned into motionless, only able to watch as Techno grabbed the shaft of the trident and yanked it forwards, the blades freeing themselves from Tubbo’s skin and sending the boy toppling into the grass where he lay still. He wasn’t dead. The injury might not even kill him, but it was the message that truly mattered. He took a few steps, looking at the blood that coated the tips of the weapon. </p>
<p>“Techno- what?!” Tommy stuttered, horrified, as he dropped his sword and rolled Tubbo over. He pulled the boy’s head into his lap, wrapping his arms around Tubbo protectively as he glared up at Dream. Someone rushed over, handing Tommy healing potions. With those, Tubbo would heal. Techno didn’t particularly care. He had been pushed over his edge. </p>
<p>“Don’t you see what’s happening here?” He asked, deflecting a poorly aimed shot with the head of his trident. “Listen to me! Don’t you see what’s happening here?!” He gestured with his trident towards Tommy and Tubbo, looking out at the people that stared at him with some semblance of horror and disgust. It was okay, he was used to it. The ends justify the means.</p>
<p>“You just fought to dismantle one government- and you replaced it with another! You kill one tyrant and another takes his place. The problem wasn’t Schlatt, no. The problem is and always was this government! Power! Power will corrupt anyone, yet you hand it out freely?! Do you not learn from your mistakes?” His voice increased in volume, increased in intensity, as he continued his small speech. </p>
<p>He heard small sniffles coming from Tommy, but other than that there was no noise whatsoever. It was fitting, the only noise during his final straw being the sound of his brother crying into the hair of his best friend as someone Techno didn’t care enough to remember scrambled to apply the healing potion to the wounds. </p>
<p>He laughed. What else could he do? He pushed the stray strands of hair that had escaped his braid out of his face and laughed. They were all insane, how could they not see they were doing more harm than good? He thought he heard someone call him a fucking psycho as they charged forwards, chaos breaking out among the people that stood around them. Who was on what side? Not even he knew. He darted through the people, stabbing who he could and avoiding who he couldn’t.</p>
<p>He made his way to a higher vantage point to observe, to see what was happening- as soon as he pulled himself onto the roof of the building, though, he realized something was wrong.</p>
<p>The ground was trembling.</p>
<p>It took a second for the ground to erupt, patches of explosions clearing holes in the ground at random. The biggest was in the center of the city, blown down to what seemed like the center of the earth. The explosions- Will?</p>
<p>Oh god, Will.</p>
<p>He had to wait for the trembling to subside, but as soon as the tremors stopped shifting below his feet, he jumped from the roof and hit the ground running. The room- where was the room? He turned a corner, having to jump over a fallen lamppost and go around a hole in the ground. If he remembered correctly, it should be right-</p>
<p>Here.</p>
<p>He froze, dark eyes locked on the inside of the room. It was visible to the air, he could see Will, and he could see . . . Phil? The blonde hair tucked beneath the green and white hat, the vast grey wings folded behind his back- it was Phil. But- what was he doing? </p>
<p>Techno drew closer, not even noticing Tommy darting out from between buildings to observe alongside him. Will’s voice finally met his ears.</p>
<p>“Please- kill me. Kill me, Phil. Kill me. Kill me,” he said, repeating the words ‘kill me’ over and over again. Techno’s heart leapt to his throat, and he desperately looked for a way across the crater to get to them. Surely Phil wouldn’t. </p>
<p>“I can’t- you’re my son!” </p>
<p>Good, good. Phil was sane, he was himself. He wouldn’t kill WIll, Techno would have time to get there, and he could set everything right. He could protect them, he could protect the only person that hadn’t stabbed him in the throat today. </p>
<p>“KILL ME!” </p>
<p>Even Techno jolted at how desperate the words sounded as he pulled himself over some rubble, feet hitting the ground and chin lifting to look up at the two men standing in the ruins of the control room.</p>
<p>No.</p>
<p>No, no please. </p>
<p>Phil had his head ducked, eyes squeezed closed and hands gripping the hilt of a diamond sword. The blue blade gleamed in the spots it wasn’t soaked in blood, the blade jutting out of Will’s back. He was. . . smiling. He had gone insane, that wasn’t debatable- but not enough so that he deserved death. His voice caught in his throat, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. It took a moment until he found his voice again, a scream ripping from his lungs as he watched Phil lower Will’s body to the ground. His eyes were glassy, blank. </p>
<p>He couldn’t protect them. He couldn’t protect them no matter how hard he had tried. He had failed. </p>
<p>His scream shifted from horror to rage as he turned on his heel, the noise dying in his throat. His eyes found Tommy, and the memory of a weapon he hadn’t even been intending to use came to the surface of his mind. </p>
<p>In the muddled aftermath of his grief, he was on autopilot. He found an ender chest, gathering the materials in the few minutes as people were distracted by Will’s death. He couldn’t be deterred, he would have time to mourn later. He found a spot, rushing through the setup. The body, yes, good. The heads- he shoved two skulls onto each, holding the last two in his hands as his name was spoken.</p>
<p>“Techno, what are you doing?”</p>
<p>Tommy. It was always Tommy. He turned, looking over his shoulder at the boy who had caused it all. He had allowed this to happen. He had led himself down this path. He had gone against Techno’s recommendations, he had believed he knew better. He never knew better. He was naive and stupid, he was a child with a death wish. If he wanted to see carnage, he would see carnage.</p>
<p>“I have a story to tell you, Tommy. About a man named Theseus. His people were in trouble, Tommy. They needed a hero. So he became one. He set out and killed the minotaur, he was a hero, do you know what happened then?” Silence.</p>
<p>“Do you know what happened then?” he repeated himself, fingertips gripping the skull harder. </p>
<p>“N-no,” Tommy responded, the tip of his crossbow wavering, lowering from where it was pointed at Techno’s heart. </p>
<p>“He was exiled. They banished him. He died hated by the people he saved. Good things don’t happen to heroes, Tommy.”</p>
<p>He took a step backwards, towards the haphazard structures he had made. The attention of others slowly turned towards him, towards Tommy. He saw Dream emerge on a distant rooftop, and he could almost feel the man smile beneath his mask. </p>
<p>“Do you want to be a hero Tommy?”</p>
<p>His eyes scanned those nearby. Phil had crawled from the crater, standing a ways away from everyone else with blood coating his hands and forearms. Techno would go there first, bring Phil to safety, and return to enhance the chaos around them. All he had left was Phil. Tommy had taken his stance, Will was dead, and Tubbo sided with Tommy. It was just him and his father- just like the good old days. The days before his brothers, the days before conflict and hatred. This was for the best.</p>
<p>“Do you want to be a hero?”</p>
<p>The anticipation grew in his stomach. Bystanders tried to convince him to step away, to put the skulls down. He had no other path. The others had been blown up by the catastrophic failure of everything he had attempted in the past weeks. His resources, his time, his efforts, all exploded. Gone. Everything he had done was for nothing, everything he had been done contributed to something he had stood against from the very beginning. </p>
<p>It was time to start with a clean slate.</p>
<p>
  <i></i><br/>“THEN DIE LIKE ONE!”<br/>
</p>
<p>He turned just enough to perch the heads on top of the creations, the rush of air as the creatures came to life whipping his cloak behind him. The hiss of the skulls, the faint glow of the blackened bone, the yearning for destruction. It was a perfect storm. HIS perfect storm. </p>
<p>As the sun began to set, the sky painted red and orange, he watched as the chaos he had molded with his own hands descended upon the city.</p>
<p>He had nothing to lose. He had everything to gain.</p>
<p>A new plot, a new day. He had told himself this once before, but this time the weight of a blank page in the book of his life was on him alone. Will was not there to share it with him, and as he looked around he couldn’t find Phil. </p>
<p>He was done being the weapon. Done being used. </p>
<p>This time, this new chapter, he would be the war- or he would be nothing at all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed :)) as always leave a comment with your opinions/constructive criticism/feedback if you would like, and I hope you enjoyed!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. December</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A lot of this chapter is a memory!! The large block of text that is between ‘-=+=-‘ these icons and in italics takes place in the PAST!</p><p>That being said, enjoy some (finally) soft SBI content :D As always enjoy reading, leave any constructive criticism/thoughts/feedback/etc in the comments! I love hearing from you guys!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p><br/>
<i><br/>
How deep your love is<br/>
To love me just like this<br/>
</i><br/>
</p>
</div>“Techno, with me!”<p>    Dream’s voice called over the chaos of conflict all around him. He heard it loud and clear, red-tinted eyes finding the masked man almost immediately. A small smile spread across his face at the TNT held in Dream’s hand, a promise of the chaos they so loved to submerge themselves in.</p><p>    The waves of his mind churned into a maelstrom, drawing whatever was dumb enough to approach into the swirling, violent depths. Sweat ran down his skin, mimicking the spray of the ocean water. He stood above it all, boots on top of the waves, staring down into the ocean that had consumed him mere days prior. </p><p>    His demons could not even escape the blade of his trident. He would vanquish anyone that stood against him, friend or foe. Nothing found respite from the explosive vengeance he swore. </p><p>    He caught the sword Dream tossed, hand loose around the grip as Dream used his newly freed hand to toss the bundled explosives into the crater below. He intended to deepen it, to turn the gash in the earth where they stood into a wound that had no hopes of returning without a jagged scar. Nobody would forget what had stood here today- or rather, what had not stood. </p><p>    He kept the end of the fuse in his hand as he threw, the fuse unwinding and descending into the pit, creating a connection. He drew a lighter from his pocket, the pad of his thumb pressing down on the trigger plate, a flame sparking to life and immediately catching the end of the fuse held up against it. </p><p>    The blank expression of the mask showed nothing, but Techno could imagine the smile on his face, the flame reflecting in his eyes for a second before he dropped the fuse, watching it burn over the edge and begin to descend towards the awaiting destruction below.</p><p>    “Team Chaos for the win,” Dream took back the sword that Techno offered, using it to almost wave goodbye as he turned, jogging off and ducking into the destruction of a building to find the most direct route back to the main battle. </p><p>    He could hear the hiss and the distant explosions the withers caused. They seemed to be doing well. He took one last look into the pit, the spark of the fuse nearly halfway to the bottom. He smiled, adjusting his grip on his trident and turning away, feet carrying him towards the cacophony of desolation.</p><p>    It took only a few moments to come upon the scene he had set. The bests hovered across the ground, power thrumming around their skeletal forms, swirling and churning as they threatened death upon those around them.</p><p>    Some men flickered around nearby, using melee when they could. Others stood a bit further, focusing more on range. The other beast was similar, faced by light opposition. They would struggle once they entered their second phase, a melee specific stage. He had no doubt many would be injured, even killed. It was the perfect storm.</p><p>    He raised his trident to block the swing of a sword, eyes shifting to take in who he was facing. He froze, unable to react as the sword was pulled back and jabbed towards him, freezing inches in front of his throat. He blinked, looking down the blade at angry blue eyes, blond hair ruffled and unkempt. </p><p>    “Phil?”</p><p>    -=+=-<br/>
<i></i></p><p>
  <i>    Trees towered into the night sky, stretching upwards towards the heavens in an infinite cluster of the very essence of life. They seemed as if they were almost eternal, with the vast stretch of their roots, the way they could grasp at the soil, secure the earth, and draw everything to a standstill.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    The only movement in the depths of these woods was that of a young man- stepping over a root and stumbling due to his faltering balance. Crimson dripped onto the wood below, soaking into the fibers of the tree and securing the man into the fabric of time. The tree would hold this memory close, and it would be years before the bark heard another whisper of life beyond the birds that nested in its branches and the deer that found respite in its shade. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    His hand brushed along the tree as he passed, a brief moment of stability before he continued stumbling along, disoriented and afraid.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    Rose-colored hair tumbled over his shoulders, shaken loose from the ponytail it had previously been bound by. A gash cut through his eyebrow, red blinding half of his vision. His breaths came quickly, huffed through clenched teeth, passing over tusks as the output tumbled into the sky. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    His eyes were dull and black, signs of exhaustion printed onto the skin beneath them. Red velvet hung over his shoulders, masking the way his hand clutched at his shoulder, shrouding the splintered wooden shaft of an arrow- hiding the wound that wept of magic. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “Fuck-” the curse fell from his lips as he shifted, the movement surging through his shoulder and igniting a flare of white-hot pain intense enough to force him to his knees. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, bracing himself on the nearest tree with his good shoulder. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    His breath continued to come in pants, iron lingering on his tongue. His hand was slick, the snapped shaft of the arrow oozing sanguine every time it was moved even the slightest. He coughed as a sob surged up his throat, head falling back against the tree as he finally gave up, shifting to sit down. He was unsure what would happen to him, for the sensation deep in his bones was foreign. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    He felt powerless and weak, all semblance of divinity having been expelled by the arrow. Decay. He had recognized the potent effects the moment it struck him- pierced his skin. He expected nothing less from one of the greatest warriors of this lifetime. Few knew of the presence of gods, and even fewer could combat them. This was his first encounter with such a hero, and he hoped it would be his last for a long, long while. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    The arrow would wear off with time, but he had no indication of how long that implied. Days? Weeks? His hands were shaking, and he could barely see straight. It seemed as if it would take quite a while to return to his usual grandeur. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    He basked in the thin veins of moonlight that danced their way through the canopy far above, time passing in a rush of everything and nothing all at once. Decades or seconds could have passed, and he wouldn’t have known the difference. What brought him back into a semi-conscious state was soft footsteps, light across the forest floor. Someone that traveled often, and traveled light. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    He peered up into the brush, eyes still glazed over but as attentive as they could be with his current state. He lifted his hand, the blood-soaked fingers spread as he reached into empty space, a spear flickering into existence with the limited power that lingered in his bloodstream. He grasped the polished wood, shifting to try and stand, using the spear to support some of his weight.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    With much difficulty, he got his feet back beneath him, head swimming at the lack of blood in his body in combination with the altitude change. He tried to locate the source of the footsteps, to see if he could navigate his way away from them entirely. He shifted to take a step, a jolt through his body forcing him to lean against the spear, hand clawing up at his throat as a violent cough ripped through him, feeling as if knives were slicing the skin inside of him. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “Hello?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    The cough must have startled whoever was there- they were much closer than he had originally believed. The voice was male, lightly accented. He lifted his chin towards the closest noise as a leaf was brushed out of the way, a stranger stepping into the silvery glow of the moon overhead. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    Wide blue eyes peered up at him- the man was shorter than he was, a green and white hat covering some of the platinum blond hair that hung partially in his face. He looked young, no more than 20, a rough grey travel cloak lying over the rest of his frame. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “My god, are you alright?” With only a moment’s hesitation, the man was stepping towards him. He didn’t back up, for his body felt too heavy to be able to move his feet. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    The man brushed the cloak aside so his hands were free, reaching up to touch the blood-soaked stranger before him. He wasn’t afraid, not like most men. At the sight of tusks and a spear, the marks of battle on his skin, many would flee. They would leave him where he stood, abandon him to the gods, unaware that he was one of them. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “What’s your name?” The man finally asked after being met by silence at his previous inquiry.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “Technoblade.” His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and it took a few moments to be able to speak clearly enough that his word was recognizable. The man offered him a small smile, the palm of his hand resting on Technoblade’s cheek to gently push his head to the side, enough to push his hair away from the gash through his eyebrow and get a good look at it. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “I’m Phil- is this your only injury?” The genuine concern on the man’s face was intriguing to the god. He was normally met with fear and unrest, the terror that morphed into disgust as they fled from his line of sight. But this man- Phil, he reminded himself- not only stood before him without so much as a tremor, but he was also voluntarily touching him. Gentle fingertips touched the skin just beside the gash, prompting a small wince.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “Sorry,” Phil mumbled, eyebrows furrowing in concentration.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “No, there’s an arrow in my shoulder.” It took Techno some contemplation to be able to speak his weaknesses, but even he was able to admit he might benefit from some help. The gentle touches on his face paused as the words fell from his lips, the man very quickly pulling his hands away and leaving the faint sensation of touch to fade from his mind. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “My home is close, come on. I have medical supplies there.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    Phil shifted, beckoning for his newfound companion to follow along, and Techno finally noticed something unique. Large charcoal grey wings folded neatly across his back, the tips of the feathers nearly brushing the ground. He must have missed them before because of the shadows of the forest. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    He attempted to step again without thinking and would have collapsed if Phil had not managed to steady him, a hand splayed across Techno’s chest to keep him relatively upright. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “Alright, come on-” he spoke mostly to himself as he identified which shoulder was injured, moving to the opposide side and pulling Techno’s arm across his shoulders, wrapping an arm around his waist and accepting as the god put some of his weight into the support he had established.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    They moved slowly, most of the trip clouded in Techno’s mind by the pain of constant shifting and jostling. He barely recognized as they came upon a small house, just beyond the treeline. Phil coaxed him towards the door, pausing so Techno could duck through the frame that would have been just too short for him to enter otherwise. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    It was small- very cozy- but he didn’t have much time to look around as Phil led him into the kitchen, using his foot to hook around the leg of a chair and push it away from the table, aiding to seat Techno down with as little pain as possible. He didn’t protest when Phil pulled at the golden clasp that held his cloak on, pushing it over the back of the chair so he could finally get a look at the injury that was plaguing the man. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    He frowned, taking in the way nearly his entire shirt was stained in deep crimson. It was too in the way. It took a bit of patience to unfasten the buttons and tug the fabric away, enough to expose the sickly, greying skin around the head of the arrow still embedded in the flesh of his shoulder.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “This is magic-” Phil spoke without thinking, eyes flickering up to find the face of his guest. Who was he, to be someone who had encountered magic as potent as this? To be still alive even as the taint of decay leaked into his body? He certainly could not be human.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    Despite his sorry state, it seemed as if Techno was quick to pick up on the man’s realization. Lines of worry formed on his forehead, and his spear raised from where it had been discarded on the floor so it met his hand. Phil watched the display with intrigue, the blue of his eyes seeming to lighten almost imperceptibly. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    With every passing moment, the two grew more and more perplexed by each other. It was synchronous, a developing complexity that they struggled to comprehend. Phil saw the spear move on its own, the way Techno was still very alive in spite of the deadly magic he had been struck with. Techno saw Phil refusing to give in to fear as everyone else did. Even at implications of threat or danger, he seemed only curious instead of terrified. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “Why are you helping me?” Techno blurt out the question, his voice a bit harsher than intended. Was this some sort of ploy? Nobody was this kind without ulterior motives.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “You’re hurt, and the woods get cold at night. What kind of person would I be if I left you out there?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “A reasonable one- ow!” He reached up with his good hand to rub at the spot on his forehead Phil had just flicked. “What was that?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “No being mean to yourself when you’re under my roof! Everyone deserves a little help sometimes, no matter how scary you think you are.” It almost sounded as if he was being. . . scolded. Like a parent would criticize a child- no malicious intent, simply a lesson to impart. “Hang tight, I have to grab some supplies from upstairs.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    Just as quickly as it had happened, the brief tender moment ended, leaving Techno bewildered. Strangely, though, he was not upset. The sting on his forehead faded, but his fingertips lingered on the spot. Nobody had dared approach him like that before, let alone be so casual in their interaction. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    His hand dropped to his lap when Phil returned, holding a brown leather bag in one hand and a damp washcloth in the other. He set the bag down on the table just beside him and pulled the other chair over so he could sit while he worked. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    Techno expected him to focus on the shoulder, so he was reasonably surprised when Phil placed his hand on one side of the god’s face to steady him, using the other to gently wipe away the blood stuck to his skin. With the cut more visible, Phil was actually able to gauge what would be needed to help out. It was over his brow bone, a tricky spot to treat effectively. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “Are you okay with needles?” he drew back so he could dig through the bag again, not acknowledging the hum of confirmation he heard. It took a moment, but he was able to find a small suture kit in its depths. There was an array of brightly colored stickers decorating the top, drawing an amused huff. “Sorry, my son wanted to decorate the case when I had to stitch up a cut on his chin.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “Son?” Techno tipped his head to the side, a few strands of hair slipping over his shoulder at the movement. Phil opened the small container, busying himself by preparing the needle. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “Mhm, I have two.” He smiled, visible even as Techno gazed at his profile. “Wilbur and Tommy- Will is 10, Tommy is only 3. They’re both asleep still, I hope, and it will be a while before they wake up. No need to have little ones bothering you.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    He finished preparing the needle, pushing his chair a bit closer and reaching up to position Techno’s head the best he could. Techno let his eyes slip closed, barely even feeling the small pinch. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “Are they-?” He let the question linger, not sure how to finish it. He was never good with language, and even worse at expressing things in the best way. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “Mine?” Phil seemed to understand well enough, his voice filled to the brim with a blend of concentration and soft affection. “No, they’re not. I haven’t a clue who their parents are, either. Lots of kids get left to wander these woods, they’re big enough that it’s almost impossible to get out once you’ve lost your path.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    The implications of his description were heavy. Two children left out to the mercy of the elements, and Techno knew well that the elements were not kind. They were ancient, and they hardly cared about the blink of a mortal life- child or not. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “All finished-” Techno opened his eyes at the words, watching Phil set down the needle on the table and pick up the washcloth once again to run it over the cut as extra precaution, and to collect any blood left behind. “-but now’s the worst part.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    Phil leaned back in his chair, taking a long gander at the arrow. Grey tinged the edges of the wound, spreading a few inches past that as it gradually faded into his natural skin tone. It looked dead. The blond drew his lower lip between his teeth, gnawing on it in thought. What was the best way to go about this?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “Pulling the arrow out? That’s your challenge?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    The smile on Techno’s face was so slight that Phil didn’t even see it. He was a god, he could take a bit of pain. He shifted, lifting his good hand to grasp the part of the arrow shaft that still protruded, just able to get a grip on it beyond the splintered wood. He pulled it out- simply ripping the sharpened metal tip from his skin. It hurt like a bitch, but that was only temporary. He looked down at the arrow lying between his bloodstained fingers, choosing to ignore the warmth of blood that ran down his side. The metal had blocked most of the blood flow, but with that stopper gone, it poured forth. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “Oh my- oh my god why the fuck did you do that?” Phil shoved the washcloth he was holding up against the wound, pressing against it in hopes of calming down the bleeding. The alarm bells in his head were ringing, blaring at what he just witnessed. Did this man not know ripping an arrow out like that made the wound worse? Did he just not care? Phil found himself concerned for Techno’s general wellbeing if he was dull enough to make a decision like that. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “Arrow needed to be out, right?” He looked up from the object in his palm, black eyes meeting blue. He seemed almost completely unphased. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “Did that not hurt?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “It hurts a lot. I can’t move my arm at all. But the arrow needed to be out, did it not?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    Phil cringed at the thought of ripping an arrow out of his skin, holding the pressure on Techno’s shoulder as he glanced down at the arrow tip. He didn’t pay much attention to it once he noticed the faint tremor of Techno’s fingertips. He was injured and weak, so why did he act as if nothing was wrong? How was he so good at it, on top of that?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    He pondered the questions that ran laps around his skull for a long while as silence settled across the kitchen, only interrupted by the scraping of Phil’s chair as he stood to fetch a clean towel. The bleeding subsided with patience, allowing him to properly clean the wound and wind bandages around the thick layer of gauze for an added layer of security. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    The bandages would have to be changed rather frequently for a few days. He might have to take a trip to town to get some more. No matter, that only took half a day, and the kids were used to him being gone for a day or so at a time. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    He watched as Techno fixed his shirt and called his spear to his hand, using it as a crutch to stand from the seat and reaching with his bad arm to grab his cloak out of pure instinct. He wasn’t able to disguise the wince as he shifted his shoulder, and gave Phil the perfect opportunity to grab his cloak instead. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “I’m going to put this aside to wash and get you some clean clothes, yeah?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “I need my cloak. It’s cold out,” Techno protested, eyebrows creasing. He shifted his weight, letting the spear lean in the crook of his elbow so he could hold out the palm of his good arm. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “You have to stay here a few days until that heals more. I might be able to brew a healing potion if I check my supplies, but no guarantees.” Phil stepped back from the outstretched hand, gathering the cloak in his arms and flashing a smile as he slipped out of the room. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    Techno stood in the middle of the kitchen for some time, utterly dumbfounded at why someone would request him to stay in their home for any amount of time. He was unpleasant to be around, especially for mortals. This man must have lost his mind in the woods at some point, it was the only explanation. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “Who are you?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    His attention snapped towards the doorway, grip tightening on his spear. A boy stood there- this one looked older than 3. What was his name? Something with a W, maybe Walter? The spear faded from his grasp, disappearing back into the plane of existence it rested in when not in use. No need to be armed around a young boy. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    Was 10 even young in human years? It had been so long he nearly forgot. Maybe this was the middle of his lifespan. He looked young, that was all Techno had to reference. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “Technoblade.” He didn’t have the reason to say any more than that, instead giving into his intrigue about the boy. He knew next to nothing about children other than what they looked like as bodies on the battlefield. Gruesome, but it was the life of a malevolent god. It was all he had ever known, so what reason did he have to be appalled by it?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    He had brown hair sticking out in all directions, a bright blue shirt that was most certainly on both inside out and backward, and fuzzy pants with pictures of dogs on them. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “That’s a weird name. Why are you in my house?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    He was shocked by the blunt response. He had been told many times he was a painfully blunt person, but even that seemed a bit odd. Did all children speak whatever came to mind? That seemed like it would be both annoying and somewhat insulting at the same time.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “Will, be nice!” Phil’s scolding tone was back in action as he emerged from the depths of the house, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder to coax him out of the way. He had a knit sweater and some grey pants tucked in place of where the cloak had been, presenting them to Techno without much thought and turning to face Will.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “What did I tell you about thinking before you speak?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “But it is a weird name!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    “Will!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>    The bickering faded from his ears as he looked down at the sweater, the voices of the two others in the room drowned by the raging way inside his head. The material was soft beneath his fingertips, but he could still see splotches of blood tainting his skin, almost a reminder of who he was. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    He should not be accepting aid from strangers, finding refuge in the warmth of a cottage, lingering among men and pretending he belonged. But the clothes were soft, and he was tired. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>    Would staying one night really be too bad?</i>
</p><p><i></i><br/>
-=+=-</p><p>    The sword lowered, removing the threat it had previously imposed, but the muted anger surging through Phil’s expression did not waver. Anger was not common with him, so it made moments where he found something to be enraged about all the more impactful.</p><p>    The sword was already coated in drying blood, blood that continued onto Phil’s hands and the sleeves of his olive-green robe.</p><p>    Will. That was Will’s blood. </p><p>    He forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat, chasing away the boy standing in the doorway of his thoughts. He knew Will was going to die, Will was mortal. He would die one day or another, and he would die long before Techno. So why did it sting? He should have been better prepared for this instance. He mentally chided himself for not predicting this outcome, but in reality, he had known it was a possibility all along. He had chosen to block it out, not consider it, simply because he hadn’t wanted it to come to fruition.</p><p>    The lingering red drained from his eyes, replaced by a deep and impenetrable veil of black. He secluded his pent up emotions to a deep corner of his brain, reminding himself to revisit them when he was less surrounded by people. </p><p>    “Did he have to die?” Phil grit out through clenched teeth, the tip of his sword trembling due to the unsteadiness of his hands. He seemed as though he was teetering on the tip of a mountain, a sheer drop on every side. Too much of a lean in any direction and the only thing to greet you would be the rocks below. </p><p>“Did my son have to die?!” Phil repeated the question when he didn’t receive an immediate answer, tears blooming in the corners of his eyes, breaths harsh and quickening.</p><p>“He hasn’t been himself in weeks,” Techno answered truthfully, finding no purpose at this point to lie. The damage had been done, and it would only be worse if he withheld reality from a mourning father.</p><p>“And you let him blow up a city in that state? Couldn’t you have prevented any of this?”</p><p>His words bordered on accusations, sending a pang through his stomach. Was Phil following the same path as Tommy had? Was he going to stand alone in the backdrop of a city crumbling to ashes- condone the downfall of a rebellion in solitude? He opened his mouth to respond but could find no words worth speaking into existence.</p><p>“It’s-” Phil began, halting his statement and instead heaving a sigh. The anger in his expression reduced to nothing, leaving only shadows of pain and a foggy glaze in his eyes. “Come on. We’re leaving.”</p><p>Phil grabbed his wrist, tugging him along as he began to walk towards the edge of the city, bypassing the sounds of battle that raged all around them. He found his voice after a few steps. </p><p>“Leaving? There’s a fight- Tommy-” His thoughts were scrambled, only the beginnings of some of the more pressing questions able to make their way into the ears of the blond.</p><p>“The withers are nearly dead, Tommy’s friends are all here, and I already made sure Tubbo was alive,” Phil answered each question with a frosty edge, throwing a glare over his shoulder as he mumbled once again. “No thanks to you.”</p><p>Techno’s heart dropped, eyes finding the stone beneath their feet as they continued towards the wilderness. He had spent all this time trying to replicate what Phil would want, only to disappoint him in the end. His life truly was a self-repeating cycle, one plagued with betrayal and despair. If even the man that had shown him such compassion in his time of greatest need could speak to him with such hostility, he had little hope he would ever find an ally or a friend that would not burry a blade in his spine. </p><p>“I’m sorry.” The words felt foreign on his tongue, he was never one to apologize- his actions were always for his own best interest, and he didn’t regret them one bit. But this was new. </p><p>He was unfamiliar with this, to say the least. He didn’t want to hurt Tubbo, not like that, but he had been furious, he had seen the people he trusted turn against what he had said from the very beginning. He had seen them discard him like a match that had withered into nothing. Was he supposed to let them hurt him, and do nothing? Let himself be used and cast aside?</p><p>He tried to draw lines in the sand he would not cross over, but the tide always came to sweep them away. </p><p>Phil let go of his wrist, but his gaze stayed glued to the ground. He couldn’t look at that disappointment again, for he felt it would be too much to handle. He flinched when someone touched his face, but recovered from the initial surprise as his chin was tilted upwards, eyes forced to meet those of the man that stood before him. Phil’s skin was cold at first, but the warmth of his palms soon bled through. Techno hooked his fingertips around one of Phil’s wrists with the intent to pull it away but found he couldn’t bring himself to sever the contact he had not felt in so long.</p><p>“No- no Techno, it’s alright-” Phil’s voice held the same honeyed warmth as his hands, a flood of familiarity and calm. “I misspoke, I- We lost your brother today, it’s difficult to think straight. I’ve heard. . . parts of the story. Nobody is wrong and nobody is right. But the rest was true. . . Tubbo will be alright and Tommy is with him. They would want to stay anyways.”</p><p>Techno searched his expression, analyzing over and over to see if he was being lied to, lulled into a false sense of security. He could find nothing but genuine truth. </p><p>“Why do you want to come with me? I can leave and not return- not cause any more problems. It would be much easier for me to disappear alone.”</p><p>Phil’s eyes saddened, but he smiled nonetheless, wrinkles appearing beside his teary eyes in utter contrast that somehow melded so cohesively. </p><p>“Oh, Techno. . .” Phil’s thumb traced his cheekbone, leaving a smudge of nearly dried blood across his skin. They were both tattered, flecked with blood that was not their own, hearts heavy and unwell. Phil moved his hands, wrapping them behind Techno’s neck to pull him down into a hug. Techno’s arms wrapped around Phil’s midriff, face pressed into the crook of his neck. One hand stroked the soft pink hair, another splayed across the center of Techno’s back. </p><p>Grey feathers closed around them, forging a bubble of peace to isolate the pair from the still-burning fires of the city behind them, and Techno felt like he was coming home.</p><p>“You don’t deserve to be alone.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Swelling Sea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>PREFACE: To those of you they aren’t astronomy nerds- Polaris is the North Star! It’s the brightest star in the sky and the largest star in the constellation Ursa Minor (The Little Bear). Hence the reason a bear appears at the end of the story. This means that as a god, Techno’s place of “residence” was in the sky among the constellations, and they have physical forms and can therefore be his friends and companions. Hope this clears up/prevents any confusion!!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here’s chapter 6!! I was a bit lost on this one, but it kind of pulled together. It’s a bit experimental. Hope you enjoy!!</p>
<p>As always, thank you for reading, and leave any opinions/constructive criticism/feedback in the comments- I love hearing from you guys!!</p>
<p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p><br/>
<i><br/>
I am the swelling sea<br/>
You’re the moon pulling on me<br/>
Sayin’ all in time, all in good time<br/>
All in time, all in good time</i>
  </p>
  <p>
    <i>Come like some swift strong tide<br/>
Like the dawn<br/>
Takes the darkness<br/>
From the night<br/>
</i><br/>
</p>
</div>Atlas stood upon the peaks of great mountains, again and again gazing out into the infinite sky and wondering, in his solitude, if it was all worth it. To enact change was difficult- so much so that even men of the ancient world turned to the concept of fate. Though life seemed as unchanging as the Earth from the perspective of satellites, upon closer inspection there was nothing that changed more. The very plates on which humanity rested were ever-shifting, the oceans rising and falling at every whim of the moon. Change trickled like water into the cracks of dehydrated soil, imperceptible to the man that holds the pitcher but bringing life to wilting blades of grass.<p>    Though the thirst of the drying Earth is great and never-ending, a flood rushing across the hardened mud will do little to reinvigorate it. Such is the same in terms of men- steady nourishment and tender care brings vitality to the withered, but a flood of even the kindest waters will do little more than drown that which they intend to save.</p>
<p>    Crimson washed like the depths of the great flood, filling the cracks of everyone’s consciousness. Father and son stood on the deck of Noah’s Ark as it sailed over turmoiled thoughts. Images of death and destruction hung suspended in the air all around them, all-encompassing even as L’Manberg faded from view. </p>
<p>    That which they had known sank below the battering waves, the storms of change drowning all semblances of comfort and dragging them further into the trenches of the great and unfaltering sea. It weighed on Techno’s heart as he recognized, in everywhere he had known thus far, he would be unwelcome. He had never strived to belong to L’Manberg, and he cared little that he wouldn’t see such a city again in his day-to-day life. What stung was the people he was leaving behind. He always claimed to be unmoving, lacking care for those that stood beside him, but even the greatest of trees could still sway at the gentle kiss of a breeze.</p>
<p>    Time around these people- time as a mortal, condemned to their company- it had changed him. More than he cared to admit. Even if he hated to speak it as a truth, he had learned to care. </p>
<p>    Now he had to learn to push it away once again. </p>
<p>    The trees that sheltered them withered to nothing, the open sky stretching across the plains in an infinite array of the most insignificant pinpricks of light. His eyes fell on the fragile wood that spanned the winding river set before them. In the dim moonlight, it shouldn’t have seemed abnormal. They were close to L’Manberg, a bridge over a river meant nothing. But he could see himself on that bridge, Tommy waiting on the other side. They had laughed, and they had silently rejoiced in a long-needed reunion. Had it really been that long ago? Months, by now. </p>
<p>    They had taken the same route he had just traversed, chattered aimlessly about what he had missed. They had been on their way to meet Will in the ravine of Pogtopia- a barren and miserable place. Now, if he returned, it would be alight with torches and walkways, decorations- it was a home. But it was a home he had no place in. </p>
<p>    The whispers of past conversations swam in his head, and somehow the kinder they were the more they pained him. That was something he did not have, and something he would likely never have again. He reached up to thread a hand through his disheveled hair, tugging on the strands in frustration. Half of it had fallen out of the braid, hanging loose around his face and over his shoulders. His thoughts were so loud- a cacophony he was not particularly fond of. Conversations he could recite word for word, soft mumblings and ‘what-ifs’ that enjoyed haunting him in hours of somber silence. </p>
<p>    “Techno?”</p>
<p>    He looked up at Phil, who was standing at the end of the bridge, beckoning to him. He didn’t even realize he had stopped walking. He glanced once more towards the opposite side of the river, the beach he had first opened his eyes upon. A frown creased his complexion, and he ripped his gaze away, feet carrying him over the river and into territory he had yet to explore.</p>
<p>    “I think I’ll continue on for a while. Find somewhere to settle down,” he thought out loud as the two walked beside each other in silence. His words prompted Phil’s footsteps to halt, and Techno continued on a moment or two before he realized his companion had paused and looked over his shoulder to find him. He was just a few feet away, his knuckles turning white from where his fingernails dug into the palms of his hand. </p>
<p>    “I’m coming with you.”</p>
<p>    Techno shook his head and turned to face Phil completely. </p>
<p>    “Tommy and Tubbo need you more than I do, and you know that.”</p>
<p>    At his words, Phil seemed to grow visibly frustrated. He took a step forward, his wings extending just slightly in an expression of emotion. As much as hand gestures helped with communication, the minute movements of Phil’s wings served a similar purpose. The man froze before he was able to say anything, a cringe flashing across his face for the briefest of moments.</p>
<p>    Their conversation fell into irrelevance as Techno closed the distance between them, catching Phil’s shoulder before he could move away. Phil hesitated for a moment as Techno stared at him with a silent request, but his resolve soon flickered back into existence as the grey wing extended out, the tips of his primary feathers angled towards the sky. </p>
<p>    Phil was never a fan of people touching his wings- they could be delicate, and a silly mistake could leave him incapable of flight. But there were some people he did not back away from. Techno reached forward, brushing the pads of his fingers against the singed secondary feathers. It looked… ghastly. The spines of the feathers were left behind, reminding him almost of a skeleton. He stepped backward and mumbled a short command, Phil following his words and lifting his wing just enough for Techno to duck beneath it and examine the back.</p>
<p>    The burns scattered across the backs of the wing, but those did not concern him. Feathers regrew eventually- what did concern him was the particularly painful-looking patches where muscle and bone were stretched beneath. That must have been what was causing pain, it looked dreadfully unpleasant. </p>
<p>    “Phil. . .”</p>
<p>    “It’s alright, Techno. It’ll heal in a little while,” Phil attempted to reassure the man that stood just over his shoulder, gentle touches around the edges of the burns reminding him of the comforting presence.</p>
<p>    “How did this happen?”</p>
<p>    “It- I-” Phil stumbled as he tried to grasp at a response, glad that Techno couldn’t see the panic flaring in his eyes. “The explosion- I tried to. . . I tried to shield Will.”</p>
<p>    There was a brief pause of Techno’s soft touch before it resumed just as before. The subject fell away, and Techno instead shifted so he could guide Phil’s wing back into a folded position, carefully arranging the feathers as he did so in order to make it the most comfortable it could be. </p>
<p>    “Please go back to L’Manberg?”</p>
<p>    Phil whipped back around once his wing was nestled against his back once again, now able to look Techno in the eyes as he responded to the question.</p>
<p>    “Absolutely not, I’m not leaving you to die out here-”</p>
<p>    “YOU’LL BE THE ONE TO DIE OUT HERE!” Techno snapped, grabbing Phil’s wrist without thinking, his voice rising in volume and intensity. “You’re injured! You can’t fly- the farther we get the worse the mobs will be. They’ll welcome you, you can HEAL.”</p>
<p>    “You’re hurting me.” Phil’s voice was small, but Techno released his wrist immediately. He hadn’t even realized- his temper was fraying more and more with every passing day. His own lack of control terrified him.</p>
<p>    He took a step back. Why did he keep hurting everyone? He didn’t want to hurt Phil, not more than he already had.</p>
<p>    “Just go.” his voice broke, a soft stutter in the middle of the words as they caught on the emotion expanding in his throat. </p>
<p>    “But Techno I-”</p>
<p>    “No,” he interrupted Phil’s retort, determined to make himself very clear. “We don’t see the world the same way. You have more in L’Manberg than you do with me, and you have to- you have to heal. Tommy and Tubbo need your guidance too, far more than I ever have.”</p>
<p>    Phil looked as if he was going to try and get another word in, try to rationalize being able to accompany Techno beyond the borders of this land. But he said nothing. His lips closed, eyes glittering with a sort of sadness. No matter his own opinions, Techno believed it was best he stayed in L’Manberg. It was safer, and he would be surrounded by people with a common ground, yet he still couldn’t walk so easily away from someone who has been through so much. He would be alone out here- </p>
<p>    That was exactly what Techno wanted. He wanted to be alone, at least temporarily.</p>
<p>    “Promise this isn’t goodbye?”</p>
<p>    Techno’s heart tightened at the words, and he squeezed his eyes closed and took a deep breath to dissuade the prickling moisture threatening to spill down his face. He gave a tight nod, and had to wait for a few moments before he trusted himself enough to speak.</p>
<p>    “I promise.”</p>
<p>    Phil’s hand extended, reaching for the man that stood before him, only to stop halfway between them and fall back to his side. He took one step backwards, then another, and pivoted on his heel to pace back towards the bridge. </p>
<p>    Techno watched as the man’s walk turned faster, developing into a slow run as his sleeve lifted to scrub at his eyes when his feet finally met the wood of the bridge, carrying him into the woods without even a second glance over his shoulder. </p>
<p>    Just like that, the solitude of the nighttime closed in around him. It was almost comical, how quickly companionship could be ripped from his grasp. But it was for the best, he told himself. Phil was not akin to anarchy, nor was he despised by the people of L’Manberg. He would be safer there, and he would have his sons by his side. That was all that mattered- he would be safe. </p>
<p>    Distant shrieks forced his mind away from the bridge that stood between him and everything he knew. The explosives left his crossbow, the Phantoms burning and thrashing in the air before they fell, charred, to the ground below. Ash dusted the grass, carried by the slight wind to settle all across the plains. The flecks of grey found their way into his hair and scattered across the cape on his shoulders. </p>
<p>    Today had been a day of fire. It drew to a close in flames and in ruin, only brought to its knees by the cool, soft night. The blaze cascaded across L’Manberg, meticulously picking through the trembling relationships and hesitant morality in an attempt to topple the tower that had been built upon a wooden foundation.</p>
<p>    He pulled out his very last crossbow bolt and slotted it into place, drawing the string back until it engaged with a soft clink. Wooden foundations always toppled given the right amount of time and weathering- it was never safe to build on a wooden foundation. He lifted the crossbow, dark eyes following the bolt as it left the track, whistling through the air and exploding in a wreath of fire. The bridge splintered and buckled, falling into the water of the rivers below. The pieces that remained glowed with ember and flame, eminent and ceaseless destruction.</p>
<p>    He returned his crossbow to where it hung on his hip, instead pulling his trident from his back and digging the butt of the weapon into the ground. He stood for a moment, watching the wood smoulder. He exhaled, turning away from the wreckage and letting his steps carry him away from Pogtopia, away from L’Manberg, and away from- at least in this world- all he had ever known.</p>
<p>    The sun rose on an unfamiliar terrain, beating down on the back of a traveller with no destination in mind. It passed through the celestial sphere with the same longitude as it had yesterday, and the same it would have tomorrow. Some things, Techno realized, would never change. He grasped onto that concrete structure as he continued onwards, the soles of his feet aching but never changing their steady rhythm. He journeyed, still, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a glimmering wash of orange and crimson across the landscape. So created a brief cycle, one that the animals watched with great interest. The sun rose and set on a weary, unresting traveller. It met each side of the horizon twice more, finally sinking to succumb to the fourth night. </p>
<p>    The cold bit at the tips of his ears and nose, a soft flush painted across the skin of his cheekbones. The blades of grass were tinted with frost, a frost that only grew thicker as he looked up at the peaks of the hills above him. For the first time in days, he stopped. His legs protested, and his stomach begged for food, but he had no interest in that just yet. He stood at the foot of this hill, and he watched his breath as it curled upwards, given substance by the bitter cold. He had ventured far enough beyond the bounds of L’Manberg and all those around it that the very climate had changed. Mid-fall now felt like winter, the grasp of the night holding stronger and prolonging the darkness. </p>
<p>    The butt of the trident touched the grass in front of him, and he stepped forward once again. The crest of the hill drew closer, finally within reach. At long last, his determination ebbed away. His boots sank into the thin layer of snow at the peak of this hill, and he felt as if he had conquered far more than just elevation. </p>
<p>    His legs finally gave up, and he acquiesced. He sat in the fresh and undisturbed snow, looking out across a field of soft white that stretched out before him. The moonlight encouraged a facade of peace, the brilliant silver failing to show the monsters that hid in the treelines. But for a moment, Techno could pretend. </p>
<p>    His chin tipped upwards, finding the light of his guiding star. There was a faint familiarity in looking at the constellations, some weird blend of comfort and nostalgia he never knew he would crave until the moment he experienced it. Polaris blinked, prompting a gentle smile. The exhaustion of his journey closed an iron fist around his heart, finally catching up and dishing out whatever punishment it deemed worthy. </p>
<p>    He laid backwards, the crimson of his cloak spread out across the snow in stark contrast. His hair framed his face against the pale backdrop of the ground, a halo of pink and grey from the remnants of smoke and ash. </p>
<p>    The cold fled from his body as his eyelids flickered, the blanket of the stars overlooking the steady rise and fall of his chest. To them, he was impossibly small. Nothing more than an ant pacing back and forth. He was still young and impressionable when compared to the heavens above, so to lay beneath their scrutinizing gaze and succumb to the clutches of sleep was a testament to the weakness that plagued him. </p>
<p>
  <i><br/>
‘You have been gone a long time.’<br/>
</i>
</p>
<p>    The voice that echoed in Techno’s head was a familiar one, flooded with warmth and compassion. He could not react, and only let himself fall completely into the embrace of the void- convinced that what he was hearing was merely a figment of his imagination. </p>
<p>    A vast and hulking form moved out of the trees on the far reaches of the field, claws digging into the mud and snow with every step. Brown fur wreathed its body, eyes dark enough to reflect the entirety of the sky scanning the wintery landscape. It lifted its head, the light of the north star dimming noticeably. </p>
<p>    The great bear tread further into the open field, moonlight shining through its being. It cast no shadow, for it was made of stars. Its head swiveled to the hilltops, and it moved up the slope until it stood overtop of a slumbering form. It ducked its head, nudging at the man’s cheek and observing the peace that was scrawled across his face. </p>
<p>    A dull hum radiated from the depths of the bear’s chest, soft power settling in the immediate vicinity. The man shifted, his head ducking down towards his shoulder and his hand reaching towards the source of the warmth. The hum strengthened as the heavens watched through the bear’s eyes, the stars twinkling up above. </p>
<p>
  <i><br/>
‘I’ve missed you, Technoblade.’</i>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  The bear tipped its head towards the sky, and blinked out of existence. No pawprints marred the landscape, the only proof of its presence being the lingering warmth in the man’s fingertips. 
</p>
<p>
  In the center of the night sky, a dim pinprick of light strengthened. It watched over the field, and over the man, with an unwavering gaze. Polaris twinkled in greeting, relishing in the peace that accompanied the uninterrupted snow.
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. River</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’m so sorry this took so long but here we are!! The end of this fic!! I hope you all enjoy reading, and as always I appreciate any feedback/constructive criticism/general opinions!</p>
<p>Enjoy!! Thanks so much for being with me on this journey!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <br/>
    <i><br/>As night and darkness fell<br/>Came thicker masks and thicker shells<br/>On shoulders giant, I rode<br/>Down to the waters, the free have known<br/>On these banks of clay<br/>Carved by waves and sunny days<br/>I sat beside you<br/>It was all I needed, all I knew<br/></i>
    <br/>
  </p>
</div>Wings caught the air, moving methodically over the gentle breeze as they travelled towards the treeline in the distance. The morning sunlight caught against charcoal-colored feathers, a shadow mimicking the fluid beats of the wings. The soft song escaped from the bird’s throat, drawing the attention of a man just below.<p>    His hand raised to shield his eyes from the sun, squinting to see the small creature dart into the cover of the evergreen trees. It filled him with a sense of sadness, to see the wings that carried it effortlessly through the air. He wondered, briefly, if he had made the right decision to condemn himself to solitude. How was his last remaining friend faring? Had he made amends, was he helping rebuild? Word had long since reached his ears through the whispers on the biting wind that L’Manberg was set to rise again. To fill the crater, and to rebuild overtop of the scar that marred the landscape. His hand dropped back to his side, slipping beneath a cloak of deep maroon. The fur sewn onto the fabric brushed against the skin of his cheek as he turned his head, continuing on his path into the forest. </p>
<p>    The pale azure that clung to his frame helped him blend into his surroundings. He had long since abandoned the bright reds, the vibrant and uninterrupted golds- his new home was softer around the edges, and so was he. The little armor he retained was for his own peace of mind, and it was far from strong enough to protect against much of anything except the occasional mobs that traversed the landscape. A blend of pale blue and white made up his shirt, fastened at his waist and flaring slightly around a sash of red deep enough it could be mistaken for black. </p>
<p>    The only remnants of the previously flashy attire he retained were the glittering golden chains and clasps that held his cloak on his shoulders and gentle accents around the stiff leather near his biceps. His crown had been lost to the river upon his arrival, and he had not obtained a new one. Maybe it was his subconscious telling him he did not deserve it. </p>
<p>    His fingers curled tighter around the shaft of his trident, the end meeting the earth methodically as he walked, his boots leaving imprints in the snow. He hadn’t traveled this way yet, and he wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for. Anything of interest, maybe? Just some clean air? He was in the tundra, all of the air was clean air. </p>
<p>    The trees slowly thinned, and his footsteps halted as he came to the edge of the land. He hadn’t seen this- not from this perspective. The ocean stretched out before him, uninterrupted and as vast as everything he had ever known. He glanced down, digging his heel into the ground and dragging it a few inches- as he had suspected, it was sand. He stood on a small bank of sand, a steady slope down towards the still waters. Most of it was covered in a sheet of ice, and a rather thick one. He didn’t suspect it ever got warm enough to melt. </p>
<p>    A soft chirp met his ears, some distant sound of nature emanating through the usually silent air. He stood for some time, basking in the frigid breeze, and staring out at the line of the horizon. In his brief “retirement” experience so far, he found it was much easier to lose himself in simpler moments. </p>
<p>    His trident dug into the sand as he leaned some of his weight against it. For a moment it was not a weapon at all. Instead, it served as a walking stick clutched between his fingers. But the facade would always fade, and he would always remember the edge of the blade and the twang of the bowstring. He would always see the battlefield, overlapping with the image of the ocean. Flat and uninterrupted dirt, trampled and flooded with sanguine. </p>
<p>    He squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head to rid himself of that image, a soft, frustrated exhale turning visible against the air. Pink fell into his vision, a strand of hair escaping from behind his ear and blocking the line of his sight. He furrowed his eyebrows, reaching back to comb his fingertips through his hair and pull it all back into a haphazard bun, tugging the silk band off of his wrist and into the jumbled, rose-colored mess. He fussed with it for a few moments until it stayed in place, the frustration only growing in his gut. Nothing was cooperating with him right now. </p>
<p>    He glanced back towards the ice crusted on top of the water, his breath catching in his throat. For a moment he could see the glassy surface stained crimson. He turned away before he could see anything else, and when his paranoia forced him to look again, he found nothing but a frozen wasteland and a thin layer of powdered snow. He let out a shuddering breath, attempting to quell the brief surge of panic. Decades of violence and condemning the earth to blood-soaked soil seemed to be catching up to him. Once he finally stepped away, it chased him down and closed its jaws around his throat to drag him back no matter how much he protested.</p>
<p>    It seemed entirely unfair that the desire to escape what plagued him only brought it back upon him in droves. He reached up to touch the skin of his neck, almost as a reassurance to himself that he was unchained, that he was free. </p>
<p>    He ripped his eyes away from the sea, ducking his head beneath a branch to follow his footsteps back home. As far as he was concerned, that was enough adventuring for today. His mind was wandering too far to attempt much more at the time being. </p>
<p>    After just a few minutes of his boots sinking into the snow, just beside footprints he made previously, the trees opened up to a combination of hills and plains swelling all across the line of the horizon. Set in the center of one of these plains was a building made of stone and wood, a cabin of sorts. Smoke curled out of the chimney, the faint orange glow of the fireplace peeking around the edges of the windows. He reached for the latch on the basement door, interrupted by a tug on his cloak. </p>
<p>    “Carl!” He let out a surprised yelp, stumbling backwards a step when the cloak was unexpectedly pulled on. The horse promptly let go of the fabric, ears swiveling to face Techno as he lifted his head. The man sighed, but a smile quickly spread across his face. He reached out, and the horse bumped its nose against his outstretched palm, allowing him to rub Carl’s nose for a moment and then reach back to pet up and down his neck. Carl hooked his head over Techno’s shoulder, nibbling at the fur of his cloak contentedly. </p>
<p>    “Stop eating my clothes-” He tried to complain, but couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed at the creature. He shoved at the side of Carl’s neck- there was no force behind the gesture, just a playful push. A sturdy horse would likely not even feel it, especially not through the thick blanket laid across his body. Carl gave one last defiant huff, biting at Techno’s hair and yanking on one of the loose strands before turning away. </p>
<p>    “Why do I keep you if you just bully me?” he questioned, but was met only by a swish of Carl’s tail. He shook his head and rolled his eyes, finally able to pull the door open and step into his home. The walls were still barren, he noticed once he ascended the short ladder from the basement entrance, various chests scattered along the back wall and a few essential tools accompanying. His focus had been on getting himself set up for the time being- a few weeks worth of work, with the help of some villagers from a nearby town. Now that the construction was finished it felt… empty. Glaringly so. It was a home, it was his and only his, but the blank white walls and the plain stone were uncomfortable at best. It was missing something.</p>
<p>    Companionship, perhaps. Even when he had been working on his previous base, he had Tommy and Will to return to at the ravine. Now, there was nowhere to go, nobody to see. The villagers were vaguely afraid of the stranger that used a trident as a walking stick, and tended to avoid him unless he was paying them for their help. Carl was- well, a horse. Horses were fantastic to have around, loyal, hardworking, but they didn’t exactly fulfil the social aspect of the scale. </p>
<p>    Talking to himself and listening for a reply could only last him so long.</p>
<p>    He could think of several things he missed, back in L’Manberg- the people, of course, but that was something he could not repair. He had long since accepted he was not welcome, so he turned his attention towards something much more achievable. He could revisit his base, perhaps? Gather some items he could still salvage, that hadn’t been looted now that it was no longer particularly secret. If nothing else, it would at least take his mind elsewhere for a short while. Provide some respite from how empty the tundra could be. </p>
<p>    He smoothed down his clothes, thinking about what he would have to bring for such a trip. What had taken him several days to walk would take Carl only one, so he needed enough for three days, at most, accounting for interruptions in the journey. </p>
<p>    He gathered some basic items, and left plenty of room for what he would acquire once he reached his base. It was still early enough to embark today, and if Carl was quick on his feet they would arrive just before nightfall. If not, he was sure they could find some temporary shelter for the night. Nothing he hadn’t subjected himself to before. </p>
<p>    His decision to take this little adventure was rather impromptu, but he had nobody around to stop him. He was growing restless, it wasn’t often he had an extended period without some task or ultimatum to work towards. He ventured back outside, pulling Carl’s saddle off of the wall where it hung and approaching the gate of his cozy little stall. </p>
<p>    Some time later, he was finally able to lift himself into the saddle, settling into the leather seat and reaching down to pat the side of the horse’s neck. </p>
<p>    “Alright, boy, let’s get going. Time for a change of scenery.”</p>
<p>    His legs ached when they touched the ground again, stiff from hours of sitting in the same position. He hesitated to take his first few steps, but sunk back into a more comfortable state once he did so. Around him was a familiar landscape, trees he had passed before and, for some time, thought he might never pass again. He hooked Carl’s reins onto a low-hanging branch, only anticipating that he would be occupied for a short time and would quickly be able to return. </p>
<p>    He found the entrance to the base with ease, a practiced motion as he dropped down with the ladder as assistance. It was only a few moments before there was blackstone beneath the soles of his boots. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he looked around. He had been right in assuming people would not be kind to his belongings- he found there was significantly less here than when he had abandoned this place. Trivial things went missing- it was clear this had been determined in the public domain at some point or another. </p>
<p>    He rifled through the various chests, taking something of value or use on occasion and placing it into the small leather satchel he had brought. Some emeralds- convenient currency- and minerals he could easily use for something or other. His feet carried him to the back room, to the small little farm of sugarcane and nether wart, and knelt beside the trough of water. He rolled up his sleeve, reaching down to dig out a small chest and pulling it onto the surface beside him. They hadn’t quite found this, at the very least. Potion making supplies and a few more personal items joined the leather satchel, and he dropped the chest back into the water. </p>
<p>    “Techno?”</p>
<p>    He felt like someone kicked him in the chest- his heart rate exploded and he let out a startled shout, turning quickly and pressing himself against the wall as his breaths came in short pants. Once he identified the figure in the doorway his eyes slipped closed and he focused on taking deep breaths.</p>
<p>    “Sorry, mate,” the voice met his ears again, accompanied by a soft laugh. His eyes opened, and he shot a glare at Phil. The man put his hands up as if to surrender, but there was a smile on his face regardless. </p>
<p>    “What are you doing here?” Techno finally asked, and Phil responded with a shrug, stepping to the side as Techno walked forward and entered the main room. He found a chair propped against the wall, pulling it out towards the center of the room and sitting down. Phil followed suit, spinning his chair backwards so his wings weren’t pinned against his back rather uncomfortably. </p>
<p>    “I was passing by and saw the horse, diamond horse armor isn’t the most stealthy thing in the world, you know. What about you- why did you come back?”</p>
<p>    Techno thought for a moment, leaning his elbows against his knees. He didn’t necessarily need to come back, did he? Change of scenery, maybe some materials, but it wasn’t essential. He had been lonely before he left, perhaps it was his brain’s subconscious way of hoping he would encounter someone. He tried to push that thought to the back of his mind, shaking his head. </p>
<p>    “Just needed to grab some stuff, is all.” He settled on that, but could tell based on Phil’s eyebrow quirk that the man didn’t buy it even for a second. </p>
<p>    “You- funky magic man- came all the way back here just for a few things we both know you could collect in 2 days?”</p>
<p>    Techno couldn’t help his snort at the nickname. Phil was- well, the only person who was even vaguely familiar with his status. Other than dream, that is. Even then, Phil didn’t know the entire story. He knew Techno couldn’t be completely human, judging solely based on how they met, but he didn’t quite pressure the subject. He only teased him about it occasionally, and treated him quite normally aside from that. </p>
<p>    “What do you want me to tell you? I got bored? I don’t know, Phil.”</p>
<p>    “Looks like someone realized being the lone wolf isn’t too fun after all?” Phil stood up from his chair, readjusting his wings as he did so and moving to stand behind Techno. “Sit up- you’re tense,” he mumbled, pulling the silk out of Techno’s hair and undoing the haphazard, lopsided bun. He quickly separated the hair into a few parts, getting to work on twisting it into a braid. The man’s shoulders relaxed as he leaned backwards. He had always liked getting his hair done for him. </p>
<p>    “How is L’Manberg?” Techno broke the silence, Phil’s hands pausing in his hair for a heartbeat. </p>
<p>    “They’re rebuilding. Tommy’s been causing some problems, though. He’s starting to get on Dream’s bad side.”</p>
<p>    “That sounds like Tommy, alright.”</p>
<p>    “They might exile him, this time.”</p>
<p>    Techno’s rigid posture returned in an instant, and he would have turned to stare at Phil had it not been for the unfinished braid. </p>
<p>    “Exile- he’s a kid! Can’t you stop them?”</p>
<p>    There was a moment of silence before the sound of a tired sigh. </p>
<p>    “No. He’s made too many enemies, Dream told me if I interfere he would take it out on you and Tubbo. He doesn’t like me being in the city.”</p>
<p>    “Then leave.”</p>
<p>    Phil finished with the braid, returning the silk band to its place. As soon as he could tell it was done, Techno shot to his feet and turned around, his hands gripping Phil’s shoulders. </p>
<p>    “You could come with me!” He continued his previous suggestion with a large degree of enthusiasm. “If they don’t want you here- I just finished a little home, it’s big enough for two people.”</p>
<p>    Phil lifted his hands to settle it over Techno’s, gently pulling them away to hold between the two of them.</p>
<p>    “I can visit for a little while, but I can’t stay. You realize I still have everything here- Tubbo and Tommy, new friends, a goal to work towards.”</p>
<p>    Techno couldn’t help the way his face fell, but he nodded regardless. Having Phil visit- it wasn’t what he wanted, but he supposed it would do for now. Maybe one day he would move closer, but all Techno could do was hold out hope. </p>
<p>    “Yeah… a visit sounds nice.”</p>
<p>    Their path home was rather uneventful. Phil had grabbed some food and supplies from his home in L’Manberg, and they set out on their brief little adventure. It was a 2 day endeavor, if they moved through some of the nighttime, in places that monsters were scarce. They talked about nothing and everything all at once, and sometimes travelled for hours in silence. It would have been faster if Techno could ride Carl instead of leading him, and Phil could fly, but Phil’s wings were still too damaged to take flight. They acquiesced, taking it boots on the ground like trips in a younger year. When Will and Tommy ran ahead of them on their way into town, and pretended to play fight with sticks. </p>
<p>    They descended the hill towards his home on the dusk of the second day, having taken a brisk pace and a more optimal path than when Techno had first endeavored here. He situated Carl, giving him more food and time to rest before he led Phil inside and lit a fire in the fireplace so warmth could begin to radiate through the room. Phil rubbed his hands together, shivering from the temperature until the fireplace could catch up. </p>
<p>    In no time at all the home reached a semblance of comfort, and he was able to cook some meat over the fire for their dinner. They ate, once again, in silence, but it was comfortable. A familiar silence, one that did not need to be broken. Phil’s wings drooped behind him, slightly spread in a relaxed manner that Techno had learned over the years signified fatigue. </p>
<p>    “There’s a spare bed up the ladder- the one with white covers.”</p>
<p>    Phil nodded, pushing himself to his feet with a grunt and following Techno’s instructions. The man smiled- Phil must have been tired, to be so mindless as he went upstairs. After such a journey, he didn’t blame him. </p>
<p>    After a few moments he pushed the door open and descended the few steps, his feet leaving indents in the snow. The night was still young, and he had a short time until he was tired enough to sleep. On nights like this, he often liked to sit and look up at the stars, to remember kinder times, more bountiful company. </p>
<p>    He sat in the snow on the bank of a river just a short walk from his home. The water was partially iced over, and he couldn’t see what he suspected was sand lining the riverbank. He leaned back on his hands, tipping his head to look skywards and feeling the biting breeze across his skin. </p>
<p>    He remembered, briefly, the way he had entered this world he had long been stranded in. It was not unlike this scenario now- on the bank of a river, surrounded by solitude and nature. That had been warm, and now it was cold, but the cold seemed much softer. Perhaps it was because of what he had learned here? He favored the snow making his fingertips go numb than blazing sand that held too much opportunity and room for mistakes. So much had been expected of him then, and so much he had failed to deliver</p>
<p>    So yes, he preferred the bitter cold when it meant he had no eyes upon his every move, no expectations to shatter and sweep away. </p>
<p>    He laid back completely in the snow, watching as Polaris flickered in the night sky. It had been long enough that he was forced to accept this was where he was going to stay. He had no clue if he was intended to return to his old friends, his old body and mind, his old power. But he knew he had no control over it, so he chose to turn away from feeling pity for what he no longer had. </p>
<p>    He reached up, extending a hand towards the sky and letting it fall back to his side after a moment. </p>
<p>    On the opposite side of the riverbank, the great bear stood once again. It’s fur was brown and deep, but as it watched the man reach towards the heavens the color bled into a gentle white, one that blended in with its surroundings. It traversed the ice in the place it was the most sturdy, huffing and grumbling as he drew closer. The man sat up and started at it, seemingly startled but intrigued nonetheless. Once he realized the bear would not harm him, he drew closer, holding his hand out until it met with the thick fur on the top of the bear’s head. It pressed closer to the touch, as if familiar. </p>
<p>    “Hey there- hi,” he mumbled, stroking the fur for a moment before eventually turning to leave. The bear followed until it stood at the base of the steps, the man’s hand on the door as he looked back to see the creature still following him.</p>
<p>    “Oh, you want to be friends? Alright-” he paused, thinking. “-Steve. Sure. I’m gonna go to bed, Steve, feel free to do… bear things.”</p>
<p>    The bear huffed in response, watching the man pull the door closed behind him and eventually lying down in the snow. It was a thing of legend, books written in the honor of the shape it formed with other celestial bodies in the inky blackness of the sky. To be reduced to a bear named Steve was an interesting change, but Polaris supposed it was worthwhile to stay close to an old friend in need of some company. It laid its head down in the powdery snow, eyes closing to fall into a soft slumber as the stars looked down upon its back with curiosity, eager to see what was to wander in their direction. </p>
<p>    The young god whose power had forsaken him sat on the edge of his bed, looking over at his last lingering friend who was asleep across the room. For the first time in his life- a rather short one, in the eyes of the heavens and the skies he had been born from- he found that he had no wars to fight. His hand shook, sometimes, when he reached for something. His nightmares woke him in the middle of the night gasping for breath, his memories plagued him from day to day. But in the somber silence of the tundra he was able to relax, and he was able to begin to heal in ways he never thought that he needed to. </p>
<p>    He knew this peace would not last forever, it couldn’t, but for now he could enjoy some brief company and pretend to be sitting in Phil’s old cabin, surrounded by a better time.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Techo’s appearance inspiration: @leave.the.city.for.me on tiktok with their permission! Feel free to leave feedback/constructive criticism/what you would like to see in the comments. Enjoy reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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